


Kraken's Blood

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Ctul-cia, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Forced Orgasm, I'm Making So Many Trips to Hell It's Practically My Summer Home, It Does Not, Listen I Wrote This But You're Reading It, Little Bit of a Humiliation Kink, Masturbation in Shower, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, My Mom Just Got Disappointed in Me and Doesn't Know Why, Orgasm Delay, Polyamory, Public Sex, Restraints, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Tentacle Sex, That Nickname Brought to You by Sugarsweetromantic, The Only Plot is the Saga of Getting Fucked by Tentacles, The Summary Makes This Sound Like it Has a Plot, Today's First Class Ticket Bought by Writing, Who Has the Tentacles? I'll Give You a Hint, Yes you read that right, self-restraint, with tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: There have been moments where Lucy and Wyatt have felt that Flynn isn't entirely human, that something in him burned brighter, endured longer, raged deeper than the average mortal.They weren't entirely wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blame lostinspiration and sugarsweetromantic because they encouraged me every goddamn step of the way.

The first time, Lucy thought it was just her imagination.

She and Flynn had been together for about a month. Rufus was back from the dead and they’d all been riding that high and so she’d gotten up the courage and kissed Flynn. After that, well.

They hadn’t quite talked about what they were, together, but she knew how he felt. At night, when he held her and she could feel his slow, steady heartbeat under her chest, she felt impossibly loved. Safe. Adored.

She kept wondering when the other shoe would drop, and it did, but it was not at all the shoe she’d been expecting. She’d been waiting for a sneaker and ended up getting a glitter-covered go go boot.

The first time, she was underneath him, her ankles hooked around his waist, and Flynn was fucking into her with delicious abandon. He had one hand braced on the bed, and the other pressed into the small of her back, holding her up and giving her the perfect angle as she ordered him encouragingly to _move faster, sweetheart, let go, that’s it_.

And then—then—

Something wrapped around her ankle.

It was warm, firm, but... slippery. Wet, or no, not quite wet. Slimy, almost.

Lucy screamed in surprise, jerking, and Flynn slid out of her as she flailed.

“Lucy, Lucy what—”

“I—there—” She pointed… but there was nothing.

Nothing touching her but Flynn’s calm, steady hands.

“I... I must have imagined it,” she said.

“...imagined what?” Flynn asked.

She didn’t even know.

For a while after that she kept an eye out, especially around Flynn, suspicion nudging at the back of her mind even as she couldn’t think what kind of suspicion it was. She didn’t know what she was looking for or thinking of. And in time, she forgot about it.

The second time it happened, though, she knew it most definitely wasn’t her imagination.

She was on top, riding Flynn, getting him nice and deep, biting her lip and humming in pleasure as he hit that sweet spot and she rubbed at her clit…

And then something, something decidedly not one of Flynn’s hands, slid up her back.

Lucy’s eyes flew open and she inhaled sharply as the—the thing, whatever it was, warm and firm and slick—wrapped around her side and rubbed at her nipple.

It felt good—it definitely felt good—but she kind of ignored that because she could look down and see what it was now and it was—

“Flynn!?” she managed to squeak out.

A tentacle, a dark burgundy tentacle, was wrapped around her body. It was engaging her in foreplay.

What in the goddamn…

Flynn’s face was a daze, his mouth open, jaw slack, his eyes glazed over—until he saw the tentacle.

“ _Sranje_.” He sat up, which changed the angle of his cock inside of Lucy and made her moan.

The tentacle shuddered in response, rubbing more harshly at her nipple, and oh, oh that felt good, the texture—

“Jesus Christ.” Flynn grabbed her shoulders and the tentacle retreated. “Lucy, Lucy I’m so sorry, I—”

“You’re sorry? Why…”

Her question died in her throat as she saw the tentacle retreat away from her body—and into Flynn’s back.

She croaked uselessly.

“I—” Flynn looked mortified. “I didn’t intend—I didn’t want you to find out, like this.”

Lucy stared at him. “Garcia. We’ve been together for two months. We’ve known each other far longer than that. How did you want me to find out?”

Flynn’s face went red. “Not at all,” he mumbled.

Lucy frowned at him and Flynn squeezed her shoulders gently. “ _Draga_. I—it’s—the first person I told, he ran away from me. Called me a monster. The first person I ever fell in love with and he looked at me like I scared him. Disgusted him. Lorena—she took… time. I—I had to tell her, when she was pregnant with Iris, because Iris would... she had to be prepared for the kind of baby she was going to have.”

Lucy gaped at him. “And what if I want to have children with you?”

“…I figured I would burn that bridge when I got to it?” Flynn replied.

Lucy rubbed at her temples. Jesus, Flynn was still inside of her, they were naked and mid-coitus, this was not… ideal. “Sweetheart, what exactly is going on? What is… what are you?”

“I’m human,” Flynn said. “I’m just also… a bit of something else.”

He took a deep breath, and Lucy felt him relaxing all over.

And then they emerged.

Eight of them, long and dark red, tiny rings of gold around the suckers on the underside, curling in the air like prehensile tails.

Lucy felt her mouth dropping open.

“My family has… a drop of kraken blood, my grandmother called it,” Flynn said, sounding sheepish as if this was somehow his fault, the result of something he’d done. “It’s on my father’s side of the family. He had them. Iris got them. But we don’t know… how or why.”

“Where do they…”

“I have slits, on either side of my spine.” Flynn winced. “You wondered why I wouldn’t shower with you or let you see my back.”

It was true. Flynn always showered alone, and she had only seen him bare-chested from the front.

“It’s subtle enough most won’t notice but I knew up close… you would.”

Lucy watched, fascinated, as the tentacles waved lazily in the air. One cautiously approached her, and she reached out, gently closing her hand around it.

The tentacles, and Flynn, shuddered. Lucy gently pet the tentacle, and it slid closer, wrapping around her knuckles.

“They’re… attuned to me,” Flynn explained, his voice low and halting. “When I get emotional… when I feel something strongly… it took a lot of work to learn to keep them under control. I can’t hide how I’m feeling when they’re out. They… show my thoughts, with their behavior.”

“They like me,” Lucy noted, feeling oddly validated, even a bit delighted.

“They do,” Flynn confirmed. “I do,” he added, softly.

Lucy deliberately clenched around his cock, and all of Flynn’s tentacles shivered, moving towards her.

“Are you—Lucy.” Flynn tensed and the tentacles retreated. “I don’t want—I know it. It’s unbelievable. It’s…”

“It’s weird,” Lucy said. “It’s weird, and a little freaky, yes. But it’s also… it’s a part of you.” She tilted her head to the side. “Did you really think I could reject a part of you?”

After all that she had seen him do, after all the darkness he had shown her, all the faith and anger and trust and pain and joy, how could she not accept something like this? A biological inheritance that he couldn’t control or erase?

Lucy knew a little something of that.

“Lorena accepted them as me, but she didn’t… she preferred I not really use them during… while being intimate.”

“Iris had them?”

Flynn nodded, his eyes shining. “She was adorable. Dark blue tentacles, she’d use them to cling to you like a koala. Or to escape her crib as a baby.”

Lucy leaned in, placing her hands on his chest and kissing him. “They’re you, and so I love them. And I—I liked when it—what it was doing to me.”

“…you mean this?” Flynn asked, one of his tentacles sliding back up her body, up her stomach this time, wrapping around her breast. A trace of sly delight entered his face, like he wanted to tease but still wasn't quite sure that he could.

“Yes…” Lucy breathed, encouraging him. “Like that. More.”

“More?” Flynn sounded disbelieving.

“Yes, more, Garcia, I’ll make it an order.”

“Should’ve known there’s no limits to your kinkiness,” Flynn muttered, but he was blushing and looked both pleased and overwhelmed as a tentacle slid up to cup her other breast.

Mmm, that felt good. New and odd but good. The suckers were just like Flynn’s mouth in a way, creating hickeys on her skin, and the grip was firm and dextrous and the texture was just rough enough to make her jolt…

Flynn kept touching her breasts that way and Lucy felt herself getting wetter, could feel him hardening all the way again inside of her. “Jesus Christ,” Flynn breathed, his eyes fixed on her chest. “You like this.”

“Uh huh.” Lucy tipped her head back. “Show me—do more, touch me, anywhere, go on.”

Flynn thrust up tentatively inside her again, and then she felt the other six tentacles sliding over her skin. Oh, fuck, talk about sensory overload. One was tangled in her hair, tugging, yanking the way she liked, another was around her waist to hold her still as Flynn fucked her, another two were on either wrist, pinning her to him, and the last two…

The seventh was sliding up her thigh, pushing it farther open, and the other was flicking her clit.

Holy God—

“Yes,” she burst out. “Do—do that—again, Garcia—”

She was being touched all over and it was good, so good, making her claw at his shoulders, and Flynn seemed to love it, thrusting into her with an energy and freedom she’d never felt from him before; and she mourned how much he’d been holding back, how much he must have felt he’d had to.

“You can let go,” she whispered, kissing up his jaw. “You can always let go with me.”

Flynn let out a whine and then she felt the tentacle between her legs press a sucker right up against her clit—

Lucy cried out at the intense sucking pressure, shaking and writhing as she came. It was relentless, Flynn was relentless, the tentacle not stopping as she tumbled over the edge and then did so again, making her scream.

She so rarely screamed, she could practically see the smug satisfaction radiating off of Flynn.

She hardly even felt him coming inside her, feeling wrung out in the best way. The tentacles and Flynn’s hands pet her all over, cradled her, wrapped her up and tucked her into his chest.

If she’d felt loved before when he held her… this was even more so.

“Okay,” she said, grinning lazily up at him. “We are definitely including this in our sex lives.”

Flynn blushed, but his enthusiastic kiss spoke volumes.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting used to Flynn’s… extra appendages didn’t take as long as Lucy had thought.

The main reason was that he seemed so genuinely happy, relaxed, and it showed Lucy just how much he’d had to hold himself in stiff control before.

Now, when it was just the two of them up late on the couch, watching a movie, Flynn would use a tentacle to refill her coffee, or to wrap around her wrist or ankle, or pet through her hair. He was constantly touching her, in fact, even when several feet away, like he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop showing her affection.

He confided in her that just as the bunker was hard for her claustrophobia, it was hard for him to be away from the ocean. He’d grown up swimming in the sea, he told her, and it was a struggle not to have even a swimming pool nearby.

Flynn let her join him in the shower now, and she got to watch him just stand under the spray, a content look on his face, enjoying the water, even splashing around in it a little. It made her laugh, made her chest warm, to see him carefree like that.

There were a few other moments where the tentacles came into play as well, unexpectedly. Like the time they’d gotten separated from Rufus and Wyatt on a mission and she’d been fired at, only to find tentacles wrapping around her, yanking her back out of harms way as Flynn fired with his gun, able to protect her and return fire at the same moment in a way he couldn’t before, when she didn’t know.

Lucy found that so long as Flynn was happy, she didn’t care how odd or concerning it might seem to others. Not that any of the others knew. Flynn wanted it that way—it wasn’t something he liked to really talk about, and he didn’t want to force everyone in the bunker to keep him a secret once they got out. If they got out.

She tried not to think about that part.

Oddly enough, it made her feel safer, to know that Flynn had these tentacles. They were strong and dexterous, and apparently quite determined to look after her. Or, rather, Flynn was determined to look after her and the tentacles were showing it.

“It’s nice,” she admitted one night, wrapped up in bed with him.

“Mm?” Flynn asked, half asleep.

Lucy tugged lightly on one of his tentacles, smiling as it darkened. Flynn’s tentacles didn’t change color like those of a true octopus, but they would get lighter or darker, just like the rest of his skin could flush or grow pale depending on his mood.

Right now, his tentacles—and Flynn’s face—were blushing.

“This,” Lucy whispered. “It’s nice.”

Flynn lightly flexed the tentacles that were wrapped around her, keeping her curled up on his chest. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel… like it’s too confining.”

“There’s feeling confined, and there’s being held. Two different things. If it ever gets to be too much—if I need to not be touched for a while—I’ll let you know. But I… I like it.” Now Lucy knew she was the one blushing, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “It’s like you’re constantly saying… how you feel, with them.”

Flynn reached up with his hand, lightly brushing back her hair with the backs of his fingers. “Every time I look at you, I can’t help but think—that I love you. And so they can’t help but show it.”

Lucy felt warm all over, from the inside out. “How convenient, then, that I love you.”

Flynn smiled so wide, she thought his face would split in half.

Aside from all of that, though, the tentacles did force her to be a little more creative in the bedroom.

Not that she minded that in the slightest.

After all, if she could tie down his arms and legs, she could damn well tie down his tentacles, too.

It was a little easier in theory than it was in practice, but she eventually succeeded, with Flynn’s help and a bit of trial and error, in getting everything tied down on the bed to their mutual satisfaction.

“I look like a starfish,” Flynn noted in dry amusement as Lucy checked the knots.

“Oh, hush,” Lucy replied. She ran a finger down the underside of one of the tentacles and delighted in the way that Flynn shivered. He was wonderfully sensitive on his tentacles, possibly because they were connected directly to his spine and had to be full of nerves in order to do all the things that they did.

Lucy didn’t so much care for the science of it all. What she cared about was how Flynn shuddered and groaned when she sucked the tip of one of them into her mouth.

“Just think,” she told him, scratching lightly at his chest. “I just found a hundred new ways to keep you on edge for me until you beg.”

Flynn growled in the back of his throat. “You’re a bit of a sadist, darling, did you know that?”

Lucy straddled his chest and began massaging the base of two of his tentacles, mouthing at his hipbone. “Oh, no,” she said, her voice overly innocent, “I had no idea.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow at her, a fond smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth, and well, Lucy just had to kiss that away, didn’t she? Would be rude of her not to…

By now she knew Flynn’s body, knew what had him shaking, arching up into her touch—but this was new, learning that if she circled one of suckers that it made him bite her lip and shiver, learning that if she swirled her tongue around one of the tips that he made a choked-off noise in the back of his throat, learning that bit down lightly, it was the same as the rest of him, making his hips jerk.

It was similar to the rest of Flynn, just—so much more sensitive.

She did get especially cruel a few times, bending down and sliding a tentacle between her breasts, sucking at the tip. She’d never thought that Flynn had much of a preference one way or another for any part of her anatomy until the tentacles—now every single time they had sex, there were at least two of them sliding over her breasts.

It was highly amusing and she most certainly wasn’t complaining. And right now, it gave her a chance to tease.

Flynn made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Lucy—”

“Mmm, such a pity you can’t do all that you want to right now,” she mused, idly swinging a leg over one of the tentacles tied down near his leg. “Too bad you can’t touch these the way you want.” She fondled her breasts, tweaking a nipple, and then instinctively ground down on the tentacle at the same time…

Oh. _Wow_.

Now that— _that_ was a fun ride.

It rather reminded her of when she was grinding down on someone’s thigh while the person was wearing jeans—that rough texture against her clit only adding to the pleasure. She started rolling her hips, biting her lip.

Flynn’s eyes looked black. “Jesus _Christ_ , Lucy.”

“Maybe I should—I should just—do this until I come,” she managed, finding the perfect angle to just—oh God yes right there right _there_ — “Leave you—leave you like this—”

All of Flynn—his legs, his arms, his tentacles, his chest—trembled violently. “Lucy—do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

Oh God, it felt so good, so, so good, but it wasn’t—she needed—

If the tentacle felt this good against her… how would it feel inside her?

She untied it, still rocking against it, feeling the texture up against her clit. “What if I used this,” she cooed, stroking the tip, “to get myself nice and open for you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Flynn looked like he was simultaneously turned on and thinking of dousing his brain with holy water.

Lucy leaned down, kissing his stomach. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just say yes or no.” She’d take full responsibility for her depravity, if that would help Flynn feel better about it, but she wasn’t going to do anything without his consent.

Flynn swallowed, then nodded. “I just—if you’re okay—I don’t want you to—”

“I won’t hurt myself,” Lucy promised. She might push herself to the limit sometimes, but she wasn’t going to let herself be hurt, and especially not when she knew it would upset Flynn far more than it would upset her.

Luckily Flynn’s tentacles were naturally slick, and she was plenty wet—she needed next to no help in getting it inside. She guided it in slowly, watching Flynn’s face in case he changed his mind, in case he thought this was a step too far—but Flynn just had that glazed, slack-jawed look on his face that he got when she started fucking him.

Mmmm. The tentacles weren’t just sex organs. If they were, Flynn wouldn’t have been using them for things like getting the flour off the top shelf in the kitchen. But they were extremely in tune with Flynn’s emotions, and seemed to be more sensitive in general…

Lucy guided more of the tentacle inside of her, clenching down around it, and Flynn gave a helpless, broken little moan at that.

Fuck, it felt good—odd, but no odder than some dildos she’d owned. It flexed and twisted inside of her and Lucy gasped as the tentacle rippled, biting her lip. That felt—that was—

“Again,” she ordered. “Do that again.”

Flynn’s tentacle rippled, the muscles inside flexing, and Lucy whimpered. She started thrusting her hips, sliding up and down, and fuck it was more flexible than a cock but just as firm, just as solid, filling her up—oh God and the texture, the way it was—oh _fuck_ —

“Oh my God,” she burst out, her head falling back as she fucked herself on it, flinging away all dignity. Flynn’s arms, his legs, his other tentacles all strained to touch her, fighting against the bonds she’d tied them in, but he couldn’t break them and growled uselessly in frustration.

“Both,” Lucy gasped. She didn’t want to give this up but oh—oh God—she—she wanted Flynn’s cock, too, knew that she wanted him inside her in that way. Besides, she hadn’t been accused of being a selfish lover yet and she wasn’t about to start being called that now.

Flynn jerked, and she couldn’t tell if he was pulling away or pushing in. “I’m not—explaining this to Denise—when you get hurt.”

“We’ve done it with you adding your fingers,” Lucy pointed out, panting, slowing down the movements of her hips so she could concentrate on what she was saying. “It’s just—just the tip, it’s small, it’ll work…”

Flynn looked doubtful, but his tentacles were naturally, well, lubricated, for lack of a better term, and it was more flexible than his cock. It wasn’t like she was putting two of those inside of her.

(Although she did want that, and had mentioned it to Flynn, who had said something along the lines of not wanting to end up on the Top Ten Most Embarrassing Injuries list at the local hospital.)

“If you don’t want it,” Lucy said, sliding her hands up and down his chest, soothing him, “then we won’t do it. But you know we’ve stretched me out before, with the dildo, with your fingers—you fisted me that one time—”

“When we had a lot of prep!”

“I’ve been fucking your tentacle for twenty minutes, you don’t call that prep?”

Flynn raised an eyebrow at her, but she could see his tentacles getting darker, making the gold rings stand out, all of them twitching and shaking.

“Do you want this?” she cooed, scratching her nails on his chest a little. “I’ll be okay, Garcia. I promise. I’ll tell you to stop the second it starts to hurt. But it won’t, all right?”

Flynn looked at her for a long moment, his gaze scanning her body like he was trying to see right through her—and then he nodded. “All right.”

She tilted her head and pouted, trying to fight the smirk spreading across her mouth. “You like the idea.”

“I—” Flynn blushed and looked away. “Maybe a little,” he mumbled.

“Then go on,” Lucy whispered. She moved forward, stroking his cock, getting them both into the right position.

Although, it might be a little easier…

“If I untie one more tentacle, just one more, will you be good and use it to help hold me?”

Flynn swallowed. Lucy wagged a finger. “No touching anywhere else, just my waist and thighs to help with positioning.”

Flynn gave a helpless little whimper and Lucy laughed. “Well, darling? What’s it going to be?”

The growl that Flynn gave, and the way every limb yanked at the silk ties, made her so hot all over she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her. “I’ll be good.”

“Then can I hear a _please_?”

“Please, Lucy, please untie me.”

“Such a good boy.” Lucy undid another tentacle, petting it, massaging it both for the sake of watching Flynn’s eyes roll back into his head and to make sure that there was no problems with circulation from being tied down.

The newly-freed tentacle slithered up her thigh, spreading her wide as the first continued to pump inside of her, twisting, shifting. Lucy got a flash of an idea—a tentacle on each thigh, forcing her wide, two of them pumping in and out of her, Flynn’s body pinning her down, or no, maybe cuffs, tying her—oh _God_ that was an idea.

But an idea for later. Right now…

She stroked Flynn’s cock again, just for good measure—although it was also a bit of a cruel tease at this point—and started to work him inside of her alongside the tentacle.

Flynn was much better able to control the tentacle than his cock, and she could feel it sliding out, wrapping around, moving to best accommodate her. It ended up wrapped a few times around Flynn’s cock as though they were one appendage, and she almost burst out laughing wondering if this was how he’d jerked off as a teenager. It certainly would make for a fun and interesting way to take care of things on one’s own.

And then the second tentacle, the one holding her thigh, slid up and rubbed the tip against her clit—and Lucy didn’t have any thought other than _fuck me ‘til I pass out_.

She braced her hands on Flynn’s chest and sank down as far as she could, then lifted up until both Flynn’s appendages nearly slid out of her—and then sank back down again, gasping as she was stretched, filled, the rough texture sliding against her—

Flynn was swearing under his breath in Croatian, which was always a triumph in Lucy’s book. She repeated the movement, shifting her hips, twisting, finding a rhythm, getting the angle that shot fire straight into her lungs and made her let out a squeak—

“ _Molim,_ ” Flynn begged, then shook his head rapidly like he was trying to get water out of his ears. “Please, _please_ , Lucy, can I—I want to—I want to touch you, please can I touch you, _please_ —”

Jesus fucking goddamn tap-dancing Christ, she was way too out of her mind to get her fingers to cooperate and untie all of those knots right now. “Nuh-uh,” she told him, digging her nails into his biceps. “You can—you can just watch—watch me use you like this.”

Flynn swore violently in Croatian, with a few ‘fucks’ in English peppered in for good measure. Lucy rather agreed—fuck this felt good, this felt so good, she might have him fuck her like this every goddamn night—

Aside from occasionally flicking at her clit, the other tentacle was doing as told, just holding onto her, helping her maintain her balance. Lucy grabbed it, stroking it, and Flynn made a desperate wounded noise and jerked violently.

Lucy guided the tentacle to her entrance, teasing herself by just sliding the tip in and out, pushing in the littlest bit, feeling the potential for an even further stretch—as the rest of it rose up, curving against her clit, rubbing—

Her scream choked her, making her give out a strangled sort of croak as she came, tightening her hold on the tentacle with one hand as she clawed at Flynn’s arm with the other.

Flynn seemed to collapse, to go completely boneless, and she felt him coming inside of her, as she melted and sank onto him, gasping for breath.

Lucy whimpered as both Flynn cock and tentacle slid out of her, almost wanting to keep them inside of her a little longer. She struggled to get her breath back, her fingers buzzing as she reached up to undo the ties holding Flynn down.

The moment that all of his limbs were free, his arms and tentacles wrapped around her, pinning her to him, petting her all over as he kissed her over and over and over again. Lucy laughed, running her hands through his hair. “See? I was just fine.”

Flynn pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat, grumbling unintelligibly in response. Lucy kissed his hair, his temple, his forehead, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

She only had two limbs to his, well, ten, but she hoped that he felt embraced and loved by her, just as much as she did by him.

Given the way his tentacles were happily petting her, Lucy suspected that he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Molim” is “please” in Croatian.


	3. Chapter 3

Wyatt did not have a crush on Flynn.

He didn’t. He really, really didn’t.

He just. Admired the guy’s physique.

That was all.

And yes, as time went on and literally everyone in the bunker besides Flynn gave Wyatt a verbal slap upside the head, Wyatt came to appreciate Flynn’s ability to resist saying _I told you so_ , his silent support as Wyatt tried to become better, to do better by the people he loved.

Support that Wyatt knew was unearned, thanks.

And okay, so Flynn was actually pretty funny when Wyatt wasn’t so determined to hate his guts. And he was a damn good shot. And a good friend. And Wyatt felt his face heating up when Flynn passed him coffee in the mornings or remembered things like how Wyatt’s favorite color was blue or silently made Wyatt’s favorite blueberry pancakes on Father’s Day because Mason and Rufus were making a big deal out of their father-son bond and Flynn knew what it was like to have a terrible father and probably needed the distraction from thinking about Iris.

But he didn’t have a crush on Flynn, okay?

Then—then Flynn got injured on a mission.

Wyatt hadn’t actually seen what happened. His back was turned, firing off, and then he heard Lucy scream, and when he turned back, Flynn had literally been stabbed in the back. Judging from the fact that he was holding Lucy to his chest, Wyatt suspected the knife had been for her, and Flynn had grabbed her and put himself in between just in time.

Wyatt fired, striking the attacker between the eyes, then jammed his gun into its holster and ran over.

“Help him,” Lucy pleaded, pressing her hands to the wound. “Garcia…”

“Hey, it’s just a scratch,” Flynn reassured her.

Wyatt tilted his head to look at the wound. That wasn’t just a scratch. Far from it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he could overthink them. “You have to make sure Miep Gies makes it.”

Lucy looked pale but nodded, kissing Flynn swiftly before darting away.

“I’m fine,” Flynn said through gritted teeth. “Really, you don’t have to…”

“Just hold still, you stubborn moron,” Wyatt snapped. “This is gonna hurt.”

He gently parted the torn skin to see how bad it was—and froze.

“Uh… Flynn?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever see that film _Annihilation_?”

“…yes?”

“The part where Oscar Isaac cuts that guy’s stomach open and they see the, uh, stuff underneath?”

Flynn sighed. “You’re under a lot of stress, Wyatt. Whatever you think you’re seeing…”

“I think I’m seeing fuckin’ tentacles, Flynn, that’s what I think I’m seeing!” Wyatt choked out.

They were—but—how—

Flynn growled in frustration, and then—and _then_ —

Slits opened in Flynn’s back, four on each side of his spine. Nothing happened on the side that had been stabbed, but the other side… four long, dexterous tentacles, like those of an octopus, emerged, dark red, with golden rings.

“Holy fuck,” Wyatt croaked.

One of the tentacles gently rose up and slowly patted Wyatt on the shoulder. “They’re me,” Flynn said. His face was bright red and Wyatt suspected that had nothing to do with any pain Flynn might be in. “Like my arms. Or fingers, rather. They’re pretty flexible.”

Wyatt swallowed as an odd heat sank into his stomach at the word _flexible_.

“Only Lucy knows,” Flynn went on. “I’d appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”

“Were you… experimented on, in one of the wars, or…”

“I was born with this. If I’d been forced to grow these do you think I would’ve let them stick around?” Flynn voice was a dangerous growl and oh, okay, that was—doing things—Wyatt swallowed as he tried to will down the, uh, heat he was feeling between his legs.

_The man’s injured for fuck’s sake Logan what the fuck!?_

“Okay,” he squeaked out. “Then I’m just gonna—I’m gonna stitch you up here, and I won’t tell anyone about this, and I’ll just be in charge of checking up on you as you heal. Fair enough?”

Flynn nodded, one of his tentacles softly brushing against Wyatt’s cheek in thanks as Wyatt got to work.

Wyatt told himself the heat he felt in his face was just from stress.

But he had no fucking clue what to tell himself when he got into the shower that night and fucked his hand, imagining something very different curling around his cock, stroking him, something long and red with suckers and then another one sliding up his chest, entering his mouth, heavy on his tongue as Flynn ordered him to suck—

He came so hard he struggled for breath, sucking in a heaving lungful, his knees buckling, forcing him to slide to the shower floor.

 

* * *

 

The thing with the bunker was… sound traveled.

Wyatt was well aware of this. First off, there’d been the whole ‘he and Jess having sex’ thing. Kind of embarrassing to learn from Rufus that literally everyone could hear him.

Not Jess. Just him.

Yeah.

Secondly, Wyatt could hear everyone else. Denise and Flynn arguing in the living room. Rufus singing off-key in the shower. Mason playing his records. How Rufus and Jiya managed to have sex without alerting anyone, Wyatt had no idea.

And with Flynn and Lucy’s room right on the other side of the bathroom…

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard them and he doubted it would be the last, but now—now that he _knew_ —he couldn’t help but wonder if—

He was just brushing his teeth when he heard Flynn give a strangled noise, and then Lucy ordering, “Get—get them deeper— _ah_ —God, yes, like—like that—flex them for me, I like when—mm _hmm_ — _fuck_ —”

Wyatt dropped his toothbrush.

He hadn’t—okay so, after that first time he had tried really hard not to think about the whole… yeah. Thing. It was bad enough still having feelings for Lucy, knowing how badly he’d screwed that up, how wary she now was around him. He didn’t need to develop—not that he _was_ developing—he was straight, and he definitely wasn’t into that weird-ass stuff like—

On the other side of the bathroom wall, Lucy gave a squeak and then a long, drawn out moan.

Wyatt gripped the edges of the sink so hard his hands ached. God fucking dammit.

But stray thoughts—those didn’t count, right? It only counted if he actually, y’know, did something about them. Everyone had intrusive thoughts, like the voice that told you to take your hand off the brake pedal while waiting at a stop light so that your car just rolled right into the intersection.

He just had to ignore those thoughts. Thoughts like Flynn’s broad chest, or his long, dexterous fingers, or his _goddamn tentacles_.

It was all totally under control.

And then one night he had insomnia.

It had been two weeks since they’d last heard from Jess, and Wyatt was worried. For her, for the baby. Jess insisted that she was in Emma’s good graces, that she could handle playing double agent—that it was what she’d been raised and trained for.

But he still worried.

He wasn’t… the more time went on, the less _in_ love with her he felt. But he still did care about her. Deeply. And he loved his child, even though he didn’t know them yet. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt.

Hence, the insomnia.

So he got up and went to the kitchen to get a midnight snack, maybe turn on the television and see if there was some dumb sitcom show on that he could use to lull himself to sleep.

He was so goddamn out of it that he didn’t even realize that other people were in the kitchen until he nearly walked in on them, stumbling to a halt in the dark, shadowed hallway just in time.

Fucking hell.

Wyatt was rooted to the spot, his jaw slack, his pounding heart the only thing capable of movement as he watched, frozen, slick heat coursing through him like nothing else ever had.

Lucy was on the table, her hands held above her head, a tentacle wrapped firmly around her wrists. Another was sliding over her breasts, fondling them, while two more held her thighs open so that—

Holy _fuck_. Wyatt’s knees buckled a little as he realized—she was literally—

Two tentacles were sliding in and out of her, corkscrewing, as Lucy gasped and writhed, her toes curling, thighs trembling. “F-faster,” she ordered breathlessly. “Just like—ah, ah, ye—ye— _yes_ …”

Flynn’s hands were free to brace on either side of Lucy, allowing him to duck his head down and swirl his tongue around one of her nipples. Lucy keened softly, arching her body up into his touch.

Wait, if Flynn’s hands were there, then…

Wyatt’s gaze darted between Flynn’s legs and _Jesus fucking Christ_.

One of Flynn’s tentacles was wrapped around his cock, stroking him, getting him off, and Wyatt wondered if he might actually pass out from all the blood rushing from his head down between his legs as he stared, gaping.

Lucy strained against the hold on her wrists. “Tighter, darling, tighter…” Flynn obliged her, tightening his hold on both her wrists and her thighs, and Lucy inhaled sharply. “ _God_ yes.”

She looked and sounded so unbearably turned on, and Wyatt felt like he was breathing fire. He wanted—he wanted to keep watching her, he wanted to be inside her, but that desire was nothing new. But this—watching—wanting to replace her, or be beside her, wanting those tentacles around him, inside him, Flynn’s cock inside him, Flynn’s hands, anything, on him—

Flynn kissed Lucy deep and slick right as his eighth tentacle slid up and started rubbing at her clit.

Lucy bit Flynn’s lip, sobbing into his mouth, and Wyatt shuddered all over with heat as he watched her come. His cock jerked in his sweats, the fabric getting damp, and holy shit, he couldn’t—

He stumbled backwards as quietly as he could and fled back to his room, burying his face into his pillow to muffle the noises he made as he touched himself, frantic, wishing it was—imagining it was—Flynn.

 

* * *

 

Flynn still needed his injury checked up on, which was how he ended up sitting on Wyatt’s bed, shirtless as Wyatt inspected his back.

“You’re healing up good,” Wyatt commented, his voice rough and tight.

If Wyatt thought his crush was subtle, he was dead wrong.

Lucy had brought it up. “He wants you to fuck him so badly,” she’d laughed.

“I think you’re seeing things.”

“Garcia, my love, I know you wouldn’t recognize someone having feelings for you if they danced naked in front of you with a neon sign saying _I want to suck your cock_ , but trust me on this. Wyatt likes you.”

“He’s in love with you.”

“Who’s to say he can’t want us both?”

“…do you want us both?”

“…maybe. Do you?”

Six months ago, Flynn would’ve said he’d rather walk on shards of hot glass than have anything to do with Wyatt. But Wyatt had been improving. Apologizing, listening, trying to do better, coming to Flynn for advice.

And he had to admit, making Wyatt stutter and blush was a new favorite pastime.

Just to test it out, he flexed his tentacles, still under the skin. It made his back ripple, and he heard Wyatt swallow hard behind him.

“What’s it like?” Wyatt asked, his voice strangled. “Having them?”

Flynn shrugged. “I’ve had them all my life. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, to not have them. I see people with only their arms and legs and they look… empty. I wonder how they get things done when they only have two hands.”

“Does—is Lucy okay with them?”

“She is.” Flynn turned to look back over his shoulder at Wyatt. “I wouldn’t be with her if she wasn’t. I wouldn’t force her to accept something she couldn’t.”

“I’m… I’m not surprised she… she’s pretty amazing.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “She is.”

Wyatt swallowed, his cheeks going pink, looking down at his hand still splayed across Flynn’s back.

Flynn had asked Lucy why she wanted it to be both of them. “Because Wyatt was a good person, once, and he’s getting that way again. He’s… he’s sweet and supportive, when he lets himself be. And he’s so into you, it’s adorable. Like watching a puppy follow its new owner. And, well. I’ll be honest the idea of you pinning him down and fucking him is one of the hottest things I can imagine.”

It was something Flynn could also imagine, something that made him flush with heat. He had to struggle to keep the tentacles from sliding out, from moving over Wyatt’s skin, stroking him. His tentacles showed what he was feeling, what he was thinking, followed his impulses, and, well, it had made his teenage years pretty damn difficult, slamming doors and trying to strangle people and snatching food whenever he was hungry.

He had years of practice now, though, and the tentacles stayed firmly hidden.

“Do you… do you use them for…”

Flynn considered playing dumb, but he also wanted to cut to the chase. “Sex? Not until Lucy. I… growing up they proved useful, if you catch my drift. But my first—the first person I showed them to, he—he couldn’t handle it. Lorena… wasn’t into that, and I never even really thought to ask her anyway.”

The corner of Wyatt’s mouth ticked upwards in amusement. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that Lucy’s into that?”

“Maybe because you’re into it, too?” Flynn replied mildly.

Wyatt’s face got nearly as red as Flynn’s tentacles. “I’m—I’m not—I don’t—”

“Wyatt. It’s fine.” Flynn stood up. “I’m all good?”

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, you’re healing fine. From the. Um. Yeah.”

Flynn looked at Wyatt for a long moment. Wondering if he was about to fuck things up completely.

Slowly, giving Wyatt enough time to back away or say no, Flynn slid out one tentacle—just one—and stroked Wyatt’s cheek with it.

Wyatt’s eyelids fluttered, his mouth opening a little, and Flynn could feel him trembling. Holding his breath, he dared to slide the tentacle down Wyatt’s throat, his chest, down between his legs.

He could feel whatever the tentacles felt, just like he could feel whatever his hands felt, and now—now he could most definitely feel the growing bulge in Wyatt’s pants.

Flynn rubbed at it with the tentacle and Wyatt gave a soft whimper.

“Is this what you want?” Flynn asked.

Wyatt whimpered again, his hips starting to hitch shallowly against the tentacle.

“Words, Wyatt, they’re kind of important.”

“Ye—es,” Wyatt managed, his voice a broken whisper.

“What do you want?” Flynn could feel himself getting hard, heat spreading up his spine. It was hard to keep his tentacles contained, ignore their desire to slide out and hold Wyatt down and fuck into him, wrap around his throat, his wrists, his chest, put his cock, put everything into Wyatt until Wyatt didn’t even know what reality was anymore.

But he had control. He just kept touching Wyatt through his pants, as Wyatt gripped the bedsheets tightly and started to thrust against the tentacle in earnest.

“I wan’… you n’ Lucy,” Wyatt slurred. “Fuck, feels so wrong but so—so good—”

“If you’re going to have a sexuality crisis over this I suggest you get that taken care of before we fuck you,” Flynn noted.

Wyatt whined at that, shuddering. “S-so good—want—”

“You can have more. If you leave the bullshit behind. We won’t be your therapists.”

“Deal, yeah, that’s—uh huh—” If Wyatt was this goddamn turned on just from this, Flynn was dying to see how he’d fall apart when it was a proper fucking.

“M-more…” Wyatt begged, his hands clenching and unclenching, apparently wanting to touch but probably unsure how or if he could.

“You can have more,” Flynn allowed. “Later. If you’re good.”

The _if you’re good_ must have done it, because Wyatt moaned helplessly and came with a final, violent shudder.

This was either going to end up being the best night of Flynn’s life or a horrible disaster fire.

Although the fire would hopefully at least only be metaphorical this time.

“If you want us,” he said, still touching Wyatt, even as it made Wyatt tremble with overstimulation, “then you know where to find us. Lucy and me.”

He withdrew the tentacle and turned to walk out the door, leaving Wyatt shaking on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miep Gies was secretary to Otto Frank and a friend to the Frank family, helping to hide them from the Nazis. It’s thanks to her that Anne Frank’s diary survived and could be published after the war.


	4. Chapter 4

Flynn didn’t even look up from his book. “No.”

“It’s like he can _hear_ you pouting or something, this is amazing,” Lucy said.

“Garcia.” Flynn refused to look up as Wyatt scooted over and laid his head on Flynn’s shoulder. “Please?”

Flynn turned a page in his book. If he looked, he’d see Wyatt’s puppy eyes and Lucy’s pout, and he was a weak man who couldn’t resist one never mind both of them. “Unlike Lucy, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Because Lucy had so much experience with tentacle sex before she knew you,” Wyatt said, deadpan.

Flynn continued reading.

Wyatt kissed Flynn’s neck softly. “Please?” he begged.

Jesus Christ.

Flynn put his book down and looked at Lucy, who was smirking. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re excited about this too.”

“Me? Excited to watch one boyfriend tie the other up and fuck him? Never.”

Wyatt nuzzled Flynn’s neck, then looked up at him with big blue pleading eyes.

Flynn wanted this exact moment listed as the reason for his death in his obituary.

“I’m not fucking you with my damn tentacles,” he said.

Wyatt whined.

“Not. Yet.” Flynn looked at Lucy as he reached up, sliding his hand through Wyatt’s hair and tugging.

Wyatt went pliant, craning his head back, his eyes getting heavy lidded. Flynn hadn’t expected Wyatt to instantly melt like this, and it was like a shot of dopamine straight into his brain, the same as when Lucy got that steely look in her eye and purred _darling_ at him. Flynn enjoyed sex with Wyatt, he really did, but he hadn’t really used the tentacles on him yet and… and he was the first man that Wyatt had ever been with. Everything that they did together—was Wyatt’s first time.

Lucy, on the other hand—true, she’d never dealt with tentacles before, but at least she was only learning how to adjust to a slightly different kind of sex. Wyatt was still learning how to give a blowjob, for crying out loud.

“I’ll use the tentacles on you,” Flynn murmured, “but not to fuck you. Just to hold you down. Just to start. You do well with that… then we’ll see. How’s that sound?”

He bent down, brushing his lips against Wyatt’s. Wyatt whimpered and chased Flynn’s mouth, nodding.

Lucy clucked her tongue. “I think that’s not quite enough. After all, how is he supposed to know what he’s in for if we don’t show him?”

“He’s seen you get fucked by them.” Wyatt’s reaction to watching Lucy was… well. Flynn didn’t think of himself as an exhibitionist, in general, but he liked knowing that what he was doing was turning Wyatt on—or turning Lucy on, in this case today since she would be watching him with Wyatt.

“Mmm, yes, but it’s a bit different for a man than a woman, isn’t it?” Lucy leaned in, trailing her fingers over Flynn’s shoulder. “I think it would benefit him to watch… you do it.”

Flynn had—all right, so maybe—he had never thought really about using his tentacles on a partner. How could anyone actually come to like them, especially in that way? After Matej had stopped talking to him, Flynn had been certain that he would have to hide them forever.

But he had also been young, and exploring his body as all teenagers did, and he’d learned what made himself feel good, and, well.

Point was, long before Lucy came along—there was a reason he knew how to use his tentacles on her.

Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up and his face flushed, but he didn’t look at all like he was thrown off by it. Which, well, given the circumstances, this couldn’t be the biggest shock compared to everything else.

Flynn swallowed, looking into Lucy’s dark eyes, taking in her hungry, commanding gaze. He’d pleasured himself before to show off for her, and if that was what she wanted—if Wyatt was okay with it—

He nodded.

Lucy’s smirk grew. “Well all right then. I’m thinking… why doesn’t Wyatt show off what he’s learning how to do with that pretty mouth?”

Wyatt’s eyes flew open, and he looked over at Lucy with an expression of such anticipation and adrenaline and longing that Flynn nearly grabbed him and just fucked him then and there.

But he drew back instead, because Lucy had a plan in mind, and Flynn could be patient.

He had to be, when Lucy got in one of her dominating moods.

“I think you should stand,” Lucy murmured, sliding her hands up Flynn’s chest, underneath his shirt, pushing the fabric up and off.

He glared at her. She knew, of course she did, that having him stand would make everything else that much harder, would make it so that he would be in constant danger of his knees buckling.

“Perhaps leaning back against the wall,” Lucy acknowledged, laughing. “Unless… we could do this in the shower…”

A helpless, strangled noise of desire flew out of Flynn before he could stop it. Dammit, she knew, she _knew_ how much he needed and enjoyed water.

Lucy laughed. “All right then, come on darling—both of you.”

They thankfully didn’t run into anyone on the way, and Flynn double-checked that the door was locked and the chair in front of it before he allowed Wyatt and Lucy to tug him across the room and under the spray.

His tentacles came out at once, drinking in the water, the feel of it sliding down, the warmth, the wet, all of it. Something in his chest always cried out to him when he was away from the ocean, as though a part of him was weeping, and while it wasn’t the same, showers and pools helped.

Lucy laughed, delighted, and kissed a tentacle as it draped itself across her shoulders. Wyatt grinned, shaking water out of his eyes, still not familiar enough to initiate contact with the tentacles yet, letting them reach out to him first.

Flynn looped a tentacle around Wyatt’s arm, stroking back and forth slowly with the tip, just like he would with his thumb when he grabbed Wyatt with his hand.

Wyatt pet the tentacle, blushing at Flynn.

Flynn tightened his hold with the tentacle, using it to tug on Wyatt, bringing him in closer. Wyatt complied, his hands resting on Flynn’s chest, opening up at once as Flynn kissed him.

Flynn put his hands on Wyatt’s hips, holding him steady as his tentacles slowly wrapped around, sliding up Wyatt’s arms, his back, his legs. He kept his grip loose, giving Wyatt the chance to pull back, to stop, but Wyatt just whimpered and pressed closer.

Lucy kissed up Wyatt’s shoulder, then squeezed Flynn’s hand. “Go on, sweetheart, it’s all right.”

Flynn tightened his grip with the tentacles, letting go of Wyatt’s hips to move his hands up to Wyatt’s shoulders, pushing down, encouraging him onto his knees. Lucy grabbed Wyatt’s wrists and crossed them behind his back as Wyatt settled, then looked at Flynn expectantly.

“Are you sure?” Flynn asked Wyatt.

Wyatt nodded. “Yes.”

Flynn exhaled shakily, feeling heat rushing through him, his cock hardening as he wrapped two tentacles around Wyatt’s arms, down, down to his wrists, binding them together.

Wyatt shuddered, water sliding down his face, his eyelids fluttering, and Flynn had to struggle to remember how to breathe.

“Get his thighs, too,” Lucy ordered softly.

Flynn wrapped a tentacle around each of Wyatt’s thighs, spreading them apart just enough—just enough that Wyatt couldn’t use them to get any kind of relief for himself.

“Go on,” Lucy cooed to Wyatt. “Let’s see how well you can do. Just his cock to start out with, and if you’re very good… you can get more.”

Flynn choked on his own spit at the implication there, and then Wyatt leaned forward, lapping at Flynn’s cock, and he nearly choked a second time.

Lucy had a very… refined technique. She knew what she was doing, she had a plan, and she executed it with ruthless enthusiasm. Wyatt, on the other hand, didn’t have a plan, and switched what he was doing constantly—he was also a bit of a, well, a bit of a…

All right so Lucy and Wyatt used the term, not Flynn, okay?

He was a little bit of a cockslut.

 _Their_ term! Not his!

Flynn was pretty sure it was a combination of the feeling of being used, being submissive, and the way something heavy and thick in his mouth made Wyatt feel, but he wasn’t complaining. Not when Wyatt was enthusiastically sucking him down, humming a little, leaning into it.

Another tentacle reached out before Flynn could stop himself, sliding along Wyatt’s chest, teasing one of his nipples. Wyatt moaned, pushed into it, and Lucy draped a sixth tentacle over her shoulders like a snake, petting it.

“You know what?” she said. “I think he’s being very good, don’t you, Flynn? I think that he can take a little more.”

Wyatt swallowed and Flynn jerked, swearing, going hot and tight and swaying on his feet a little. Christ—his tentacles weren’t sex organs but they were erogenous zones, just like the neck or nipples or the mouth. And they had a lot more nerves in them than the rest of his body, the human parts.

Having one in Wyatt’s mouth along with…

“Wyatt. Wyatt are you sure?” He had to be certain.

Wyatt pulled off. “Yes, please,” he said.

The tentacle on his chest crept up higher, sliding along the hollow of his throat, and Wyatt jerked like he might actually come on the spot.

Ohhhh, that’s _right_ , Wyatt had a thing for throats. Flynn and Lucy had both had their fun squeezing his throat during regular human-organs-only fucking.

Flynn wrapped his tentacle lightly around Wyatt’s neck. Wyatt whimpered.

Oh, oh wasn’t that a pretty sight. His dark red tentacle wrapped all the way around Wyatt’s neck, squeezing, rippling, the tip curling up to hook in Wyatt’s bottom lip and drag his jaw open so that he could feed his cock back in, feed a tentacle in…

Wyatt’s cock was leaking steadily now, and Flynn could feel his own throbbing as if in response. He wanted to reach down, to wrap a tentacle around and stroke hard and fast until Wyatt was screaming, but—no. Lucy had a plan in mind, Flynn could sense it.

Instead, he focused on lightly squeezing and releasing around Wyatt’s throat, and slid his cock and the tentacle, inch by inch, into Wyatt’s mouth.

Wyatt ran his tongue along them experimentally, clearly trying to figure out how to make this work.

Lucy shook her head. “Ah, ah, ah, no sweetheart. You don’t do the work here. You just keep that sweet mouth nice and open and let Flynn use you how he pleases.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Wyatt looked up at him with those big blue eyes, one hundred percent eager and trusting, and Flynn thought he might combust from the way his lungs constricted at the sight. It was like his insides were turning into liquid, hot and thick and draining rapidly out of him.

He fisted a hand in Wyatt’s hair and thrust tentatively. Wyatt moaned and shuddered.

Holy fuck. Flynn started a rhythm, shallow at first, then getting bolder, sliding the tentacle in and out in time with his cock, squeezing now and again with the one around Wyatt’s throat, until his vision started to blur and it was all—fuck, he was—

“No,” Lucy ordered, her voice sharp. “Slow down.”

Flynn nearly growled in protest but did as he was told.

Lucy slid the tentacle she was petting off her shoulders. “I think,” she said, stepping around to be behind Flynn, “that you were supposed to be fucking yourself while you did this, weren’t you?”

There was the distinctive _snick_ of a bottle cap, and Flynn felt one of Lucy’s small, limber hands sliding down between his legs. She kissed the back of his shoulder blade, and started to rub around his entrance, not going in yet, just teasing. “I think… you need to get a little more desperate,” she whispered. “And so does he. Put that last one between his legs, darling. Let him squirm.”

One of her fingers slid into him and Flynn inhaled sharply, feeling like he was breathing fire. He struggled to comply, his ability to think almost gone with his brain feeling like it was leaking out of his ears. The eighth tentacle slid between Wyatt’s legs, pressing up, until Wyatt moaned and jerked, rubbing his cock against it frantically.

“Slow down,” Lucy ordered.

Wyatt slowed down with a tiny whimper.

Lucy added a second finger and Flynn shuddered, pushing back into her touch. “Lucy…”

“Yes, darling?” She curled her fingers and Flynn jumped a little as he felt sparks shoot through him, his cock jerking and leaking in Wyatt’s mouth.

“I wonder how long you can just kneel here,” Lucy observed, withdrawing her fingers and guiding the tentacle in, encouraging Flynn to replace her fingers with it. “Just kneel there while he chokes you, fucks your mouth, fucks your cock.”

Wyatt whimpered again, and Flynn could feel him trembling minutely all over. God he just wanted—he wanted to shove himself in all the way, until Wyatt screamed, to fuck and fuck and _fuck_ into him—

“Touch yourself,” Lucy whispered. She kissed up his shoulder, his neck, bit his bicep. “Go on.”

Flynn struggled to focus, and slid the tentacle into himself, an expert by now in what he wanted, in how to corkscrew it, curl it just so.

He moaned, shaking, worried his knees might get out. Lucy guided him to lean back against the wall, the water sliding down his face, his chest, adding another layer of sensation. He felt close to overstimulated, and he honestly didn’t know how—how long—

“Take your cock out,” Lucy ordered. “Leave the tentacle in.”

“Lucy—”

She lightly scratched down his arm. “I want to fuck you,” she said. “And so you’re not going to come. Not yet. You’ll be begging me by the time we’re through.”

Flynn didn’t doubt that in the slightest.

Reluctantly, he drew his cock out of Wyatt’s mouth but kept the tentacle inside, fucking it in and out of his mouth in imitation of his cock as he squeezed Wyatt’s throat, rubbed between his legs.

“Stay still,” Lucy ordered. “You can come when you want, but stay still. No moving.”

Wyatt was breathing harshly through his nose, whimpering constantly, his chest heaving, his skin flushed and fuck, fuck he looked so goddamn pretty like this, Flynn wanted to watch him for hours, keep him on edge—

He slid his tentacle farther back, pressed up behind Wyatt’s balls, teased his entrance, and Wyatt made a broken noise and came.

“Oh _yes_ ,” Lucy praised. She sounded fairly close to coming herself. “Delicious, aren’t you?”

She guided Wyatt back to sit against the wall, kissing him briefly before turning to Flynn. “Think you can hold me up, sailor?”

Picking up Lucy was not exactly a Herculean task, given their height difference. Flynn crooked a finger at her and Lucy laughed, stepping up to him.

Flynn lifted her up and Lucy immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. All of his tentacles, except the one inside him (and one that stayed with Wyatt, draped around his shoulders and petting his hair) wrapped around Lucy and held her, kept her close, stroked her skin, tangled in her hair.

“How about you put another one of those inside you?” she whispered. She kissed the tip of his nose. “Hmm? Fuck yourself and me at the same time, go on. But no coming until I say.”

Oh Jesus Christ.

“Yes, Lucy,” Flynn breathed into her mouth, and then she was kissing him, stealing the words from his tongue, and he was sliding into her, turning her to brace against the wall, another tentacle already sliding up his own leg—

He bit Lucy’s lip a little as the second tentacle slid inside of him, flexible, firm but also not quite as hard as a cock or a dildo, thick, pulsing, the rough underside with the suckers adding a new texture that left him a mess. Lucy was hot and tight around his cock, just like Wyatt’s mouth but also different, squeezing around him, gasping into his mouth, her heels digging in. The good thing with the tentacles was that he could use them to hold her, position her exactly right to keep her safe but also fuck into her as hard and fast as if they were in bed, get in good and deep.

Lucy whined, clawing at him, and behind him he heard Wyatt’s hitch in breath—Wyatt grabbed the tentacle draped around his shoulders, squeezing tightly, and there were wet slick sounds and Flynn knew, without turning around, that Wyatt was touching himself. Either his cock or with fingers inside himself, Flynn didn’t know, but God, either possibility had him growling and kissing Lucy savagely.

“Yeah,” Lucy encouraged as he got the angle that had her shaking. “Yeah, yes, right—right there—Garcia—oh my God oh my God _oh my God_ —”

Flynn slid a tentacle between them and rubbed at her clit, unable to use his hands without sacrificing his balance. Lucy yanked on a handful of his hair as she shuddered, gasping hoarsely. Flynn whined without meaning to, the two tentacles inside of him pressing up against his prostate, Lucy still around him so tight and slick and hot and—and it was all—

“Lucy please,” he kissed messily up her neck, her jaw, tugging on her ear with his teeth. “Lucy, please, please, can I—please—”

“Mmm, you were so good to me today.” Her words were a little slurred around the edges, as they always got after a good orgasm. She tightened viciously around his cock and Flynn thought he saw stars. “Go on,” Lucy whispered, her lips brushing up against his.

Flynn felt himself shaking, his tentacles, every other limb, going stiff, rubbing mercilessly at his own prostate, and came without even a sound, his throat clicking uselessly.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt croaked as Flynn let Lucy down and then collapsed against the shower wall, his tentacles sliding out of him and flopping onto the ground with the other six, all of him utterly spent. “ _Please_ do that to me as soon as possible.”

Lucy chuckled as Flynn tiredly flipped him off. “Gonna get you on your knees again first,” he managed. The sight of Wyatt like that… dear God, it would be starring in his daydreams for months and months.

“Oh, trust me,” Lucy told them both, kissing them all over and grabbing the soap to wash them off, “I’ve got plenty of more plans for you two.”


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy seemed to just go with the flow on things in their relationship, including tentacles. She knew what she wanted, and she demanded nothing less than that.

Wyatt, however, was like a newborn baby deer, stumbling and tripping as he eagerly learned how to walk, trying to run before he was ready.

He was also full of questions.

“Flynn?”

“Hmm?”

They were lying in bed, their limbs all a tangle, Wyatt’s head on Flynn’s shoulder. “You said it was okay, to ask you if I had any questions, and not to keep them to myself.”

“I did, in fact, say that. Good memory.”

“Well, I do have one question.” Wyatt propped himself up onto an elbow. “Your tentacles—they’re erogenous zones, right? So squeezing them is like when you squeeze my throat. But they’re not actual sex, uh, y’know, organs, they’re not like, eight extra dicks.”

Flynn snorted. “No, they’re not.”

“So what’s in it for you, fucking me with them?”

Flynn held up a tentacle in the air, curling it, twisting it. “You see how much control I have with these? It’s like… tentacles versus dick is like fingers versus feet.”

“If you make a foot joke I swear to fuck…”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “No. Look, with your feet, you can kick a ball, you use them to brace yourself while you climb, you can run in them. But you generally can’t write with them, or use them to slice up an onion. Your hands, your fingers, you can do that. You can write, cut, cook, play piano, all of that. Same with the tentacles. They’re flexible and I have a lot of fine motor skills with them. So when I’m using them on you or Lucy, I can do more to you than I could just with my dick inside you. And it does feel good, and it’s not like I need my dick inside one of you to be able to come or even to just enjoy myself.”

Wyatt nodded, looking contemplative. “I just… I wanted to be sure, y’know? Lucy and I—I mean, we’re into it. Clearly. But I wanted to make sure that this was all good for you, too, that you weren’t doing this just for us.”

“Even if I was doing it just for you—sometimes that’s how it works out. Lucy and I don’t care about cars all that much but we’ll always take you to an auto show. You let me ramble to you about fencing for an hour and I’m pretty sure you were trying not to fall asleep the whole time. You just… do things for your partner, and they do things for you, and sometimes those things aren’t your favorite but that’s okay just as long as you’re comfortable and they do the same back for you with other things.”

Wyatt lay back down, nuzzling into Flynn’s neck. “Okay. As long as this isn’t weird or uncomfortable for you.”

“All sex is weird when you think about it. But no, it’s not uncomfortable. I enjoy it. I can do things with you—make things feel good for you—with my tentacles in a way that I can’t with my human limbs, and I like making you two feel good.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Wyatt said dryly.

“It’s three in the morning,” Lucy moaned on Flynn’s other side. “Go the _fuck_ back to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

When Flynn finally got around to fucking Wyatt, it wasn’t planned.

They were all just rolling around on the bed, laughing, giggling, kissing every piece of each other they could reach, limbs tangled, and it was just… progressing. Clothes were coming off, Flynn’s weight was on top of him, heavy and grounding, Lucy was guiding his hand between her thighs…

This—this was what he’d missed, with Jess. Well, he’d missed lots of things. But the intimacy that slid from cuddling to sex to tickle fights to just sitting and napping together and back again, the relaxed, casual intimacy that shifted, nebulous, moving from one thing to the next, no clear cut lines because there was trust and love saturating everything… he’d missed that. Deeply.

Now he had it again, and Wyatt was determined not to fuck it up this time.

Lucy fell to the side, laughing breathlessly, holding onto Wyatt’s wrist as Wyatt slid his thumb over her clit. Flynn took Wyatt’s face in his hands, kissing him, and then Wyatt felt it:

Two tentacles, sliding up between his legs, parting them, one of the tips wiggling up and pressing against…

Wyatt whimpered, arching, but the tentacles retreated a little.

“No, please, there,” Wyatt begged—whimpered, honestly, and he was trying to be honest with himself nowadays. “Garcia _please_. I’m not made of fuckin’ glass.”

The voice at the back of his head reminded him that he’d once treated Lucy like glass, like she was china, easily broken, to be preserved on a shelf and sheltered and underestimated, and boy oh boy did he now understand just how much that had pissed her off.

Flynn appeared to struggle internally for a moment more, and then Lucy slowly slid her hand up his back, brushing her lips against the shell of his ear. “Go on, darling, it’s all right. I’ll be here. You’re both going to be okay.”

Flynn turned to her and Lucy kissed him, softly, the way that Wyatt had learned settled Flynn’s nerves. “Good boy,” Lucy whispered, nudging her nose against his.

They were all so close that Flynn barely had to turn his head to go from kissing Lucy to kissing Wyatt, and Wyatt wrapped his arms around Flynn’s neck, just sinking into the touch, Flynn’s tentacles sliding up his body, not seeking anything out in particular, just holding him, caressing him.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “Fuck me, please, _please_ , fuck me, I want it, I want them, I want _you_ …”

The tentacles slid back up his thighs, one wrapping around each of them, tightening, holding him still—and then another one was sliding up, wrapping around his cock for a moment before moving down, down, down to tease at his entrance.

Wyatt tugged on Flynn’s hair with one hand as Lucy took the other out from between her legs, kissing his knuckles. “He wants to be held down, don’t you, Wyatt?”

The tentacles around his thighs tightened instinctively as the one at his entrance rubbed back and forth slowly, catching on the rim. Flynn shuddered in response to Lucy’s words, tugging on Wyatt’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“Yes,” Wyatt whispered hoarsely. “Yes, I do.”

The moment he spoke it, two more tentacles slid up, wrapping around his wrists and forcing them down on either side of his head. “You’re going to get loud,” Flynn observed, pulling back.

Wyatt liked Flynn’s weight on him, liked when Flynn fucked him with their bodies aligned, bearing Wyatt down into the mattress, thrusting shallow and slick—he whined in protest, struggling against the tentacles to try and keep Flynn near.

Flynn shook his head. “Nope, not this time.”

A sixth tentacle moved up and traced the seam of Wyatt’s mouth. “Open up,” Flynn ordered in a hushed voice.

 Wyatt obeyed, and the tentacle slid inside.

It was just firm enough to give him something to really bite down on if he wanted to—and Flynn did like the biting—but just slick and limber enough that it felt unlike a cock, or a finger, or anything else he could get his mouth on during sex. The tentacle slid further in, down his throat and then retreated, like Flynn was testing his gag reflex, seeing how much he could stretch Wyatt’s mouth before Wyatt moaned for mercy.

God, he liked that feeling.

He liked the tentacles keeping him spread, keeping him wide open, no choice but to take whatever Flynn gave him, and pinning him down, holding his wrists. Wyatt didn’t mind ties or ropes binding him, sure, but this was so much better. This was _Flynn_ , this was living, breathing, a part of the person he loved, and it felt so much more intimate and connected than a material object ever could. It meant Flynn could feel each minute shift in Wyatt, could keep the pressure just right, loosen or tighten as Wyatt needed. It was so attentive, and Wyatt honestly wondered how Flynn could multitask like that—but he was grateful for it. It made him feel not just controlled but catered to, cared for, Flynn’s bondage just as much caretaking as it was domination.

“Oh, God, look at him,” Lucy purred. She slid her hands up Wyatt’s stomach, tweaking his nipples, to his throat where she tilted his chin up and back, her eyes dark as she watched the tentacle making his throat bulge. “Makes me wish I had some, so we could both get all over you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Lucy wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him slowly. “You’d like sixteen, you’d take as many as we gave you, Flynn and me fucking you at the same time, as many as you could manage, making you so full, such a sweet little plaything for us.”

Wyatt shuddered all over, his nerves sparking, his skin feeling set alight. He couldn’t even imagine how overwhelmed he’d feel, how completely at their mercy, how stretched and used—it was nonsensical, illogical, stupid, but _God_ in that moment, he wanted it, wanted more than anything for double what he was feeling, for Lucy to have tentacles to fuck him with, too.

But that was what dirty talk and fantasies were for, weren’t they? To make the sex even better as you imagined things, even if you couldn’t actually, logically, carry them out?

Lucy pressed down on his throat just under his chin with the webbing between her thumb and forefinger, simulating the feeling of choking without actually wrapping her hand around his throat or cutting off his airway. Wyatt’s entire body spasmed, heat shooting through him and melting him into a puddle. Between Lucy’s hand and the tentacle in his mouth, he thought he might actually orgasm untouched if she kept this up.

Lucy, however, pulled her hand away. “Fuck me,” she told Flynn, turning and looking at him, pressing her hand to his chest. “With your cock, fuck me while I watch him get fucked.”

“Who wants this more, him or you?” Flynn said dryly, but Lucy prodded at him until he moved and she could swing a leg over Wyatt, bracing on all fours over him.

“Aww, darling, stop teasing him,” she cooed. “Start fucking him properly, look at him, he’s so desperate.”

Wyatt tried to say something, but the tentacle got in the way, and all he could do was moan. Flynn closed his eyes, looking like he was trying not to come on the spot, and then Wyatt felt the tentacle between his legs start to slide into him.

Flynn’s tentacles were naturally slick, just from the day to day, but when he got aroused they got even slicker, the same as nipples hardening or skin flushing or one’s mouth going dry. Wyatt felt nothing but smooth, slick sensation as the tentacle entered him, only a little thicker than one of Flynn’s fingers at the tip, but longer, wiggling, twisting, the suckers and the ridges adding more layers of sensation—

The tentacle started to get thicker and it twisted, the suckers tugging, sucking lightly at his inner walls, and Wyatt cried out, his hips thrusting into thin air. Oh, fuck, God, that was—what—what the fuck that felt so good that felt so goddamn good—

Lucy had a hand in Flynn’s hair as she kissed Flynn, bent over her shoulder, his hand around her waist to work between her thighs, scissoring her with his fingers. Wyatt squirmed, the visual hot as fuck, made only hotter with the tentacles emerging from Flynn’s back, wrapping around to toy with Wyatt, dark red with arousal.

The suckers did that thing again, ever so briefly sucking on the muscles inside him and Wyatt bit down hard on the tentacle in his mouth, making Flynn jerk and Lucy moan in response as Flynn’s movements did something to his fingers inside her.

“In me,” Lucy ordered, her breath hitching. “In me, Garcia…”

Wyatt watched with wide eyes as Flynn entered her, the tentacle inside of him sliding in more at the same time, getting thicker, twisting—oh God it was as thick as Flynn’s cock now, but far more flexible, weird but in a good way, such a good way, slick and rough at the same time from the different textures, it was so thick oh, oh fuck, so—so thick oh _fuck_.

Just when he thought that he’d have to scream, have to warn that it was too much, the tentacle stopped, keeping him hovering right on the edge of too much. Wyatt whimpered helplessly on each exhale, shaking. It was so close to the edge he thought one wrong move would send him freefalling into ecstatic madness.

Flynn had his teeth set around Lucy’s shoulder, his eyes closed, looking like between his cock in her and his tentacle in Wyatt, he was pretty damn close to overstimulation himself. Lucy was watching Wyatt avidly, lazily rubbing at her clit. “What do you want, Wyatt?” she asked. “Garcia has two more tentacles. Do you want one in your mouth? In your ass? Around your throat?”

He wanted it around his goddamn cock, was where he wanted it, but given that Lucy hadn’t mentioned it as an option he had a feeling she wanted him to come untouched.

Which, well. Normally he’d say no way, but given how he thought he might actually explode if Flynn so much as thought about rubbing against his prostate, he was pretty sure he’d manage just fine this time.

Lucy watched him for a moment, her eyes glittering, practically all pupil. “How about… put one around his chest, Garcia. Nice and snug.”

Immediately obedient, a tentacle slid up, pushing underneath Wyatt’s back, wrapping around his chest, until it rested right where it could put a sucker on each of his nipples. The tentacle tightened, simulating breathlessness and creating suction on his nipples at the same time.

Wyatt cried out, the sound muffled by the tentacle, feeling his eyes briefly roll back into his head.

“One more,” Lucy mused. “Whatever shall we do with it?”

Flynn was panting harshly, not moving inside of her, and it had to be driving him mad. “His hair, maybe?”

Gripping his hair, tilting his head back, forcing his throat to be exposed—God yes, yes, that sounded amazing, God _please_ yes—

“No,” Lucy said. “Slide the tentacle out of him a bit. Add a second one inside, I want…” She turned her face so that she could whisper into Flynn’s ear as his head hung off her shoulder.

Wyatt squirmed, wishing something would move, unable to get leverage to just start fucking himself in the meantime. No, he was tied up, at their mercy in every way.

Flynn pulled away, nodding, and Lucy smirked. “You can start fucking me, by the way.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Flynn groaned, relieved and aroused, and Wyatt could sympathize, helpless to do anything but watch as Flynn began thrusting into Lucy sharp and deep.

And then—and then—

The tentacle inside his ass began to slide out a bit, just enough for another—

 _Oh God oh God oh God oh holy fucking God,_ Wyatt screamed, or tried to, but the tentacle in his mouth was still thrusting in and out, making him drool, muffling him—the second tentacle started to slide up into him and then—oh, oh, _oh_ —

The first tentacle twisted until it found his prostate, and then pressed up against it with a sucker, and Wyatt’s saw goddamn stars dancing in his vision.

The second tentacle thrust in and out of him, but because there were two of them, there was no respite on his prostate, one retaining constant suction and pressure as the other thoroughly, mercilessly fucked him, the same way that Flynn was fucking into Lucy, the same way the other tentacle fucked into Wyatt’s mouth.

It felt wrong, depraved, _filthy_ , being used like this, teased and pleasured and by something supposedly monstrous, supposedly taboo, unfathomable, _unnatural_ —and he reveled in it, craved it, scratched an itch so deep he hadn’t known it existed, fed a craving that he suspected would only grow the more he indulged it, the more he indulged his need for _Flynn_.

There was no escape, his wrists pinned, his thighs spread and he was crying out, how could he not, he thought he felt tears springing out of the corners of his eyes because it was so good, so _much_ , overwhelming, all of his pleasure centers being hit at the same goddamn time and he couldn’t keep up, he couldn’t—oh oh God oh _fuck_ please Jesus fucking _Christ_.

And then Lucy lowered herself and wrapped her lips around his cock.

Wyatt screamed, thrashing, held and filled and utterly surrounded, and the tentacle in his mouth had to retreat so that he could suck in great gulps of air, coming and coming and coming until it felt like it was all that he knew, all that he’d ever had, all that he’d ever wanted.

Flynn released him slowly, tentacles petting both him and Lucy, who was slumped to the side, breathing harshly. “I think… you broke… him, darling,” Lucy joked weakly, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Wyatt’s. “I can see his brain leaking out his ears.”

Flynn looked beyond pleased in that wonderfully, heartbreakingly soft way of his, glad in a humble sort of way to know that he’d made the two people he loved happy.

“Did you like it, _štene_?” Flynn asked, his voice a caress as he leaned down to drop a kiss, gentle as rain, to the corner of Wyatt’s mouth.

Wyatt nodded, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “Worth the wait,” he promised him.

Flynn lay down on Wyatt’s other side as he stroked Lucy’s hair. Lucy didn’t even bother moving, she just pillowed her head on Wyatt’s thigh and sighed contentedly.

“I’m glad,” Flynn whispered, smiling down at Wyatt.

“…does that mean we can do it again tomorrow?” Wyatt asked.

“…don’t push your luck, pretty boy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one for now, my darlings, but if anyone has any tentacle-related ideas they'd like to share, fire away! If it tickles my muse, you never know...

Flynn didn’t always get into what one would call… a mood.

When it came to sex, Flynn was happy to have it, and Lucy always knew when he wanted it—because one of his tentacles would start trying to creep up underneath her shirt.

Flynn swore it wasn’t on purpose and she believed him, but it was highly amusing. Flynn had to keep a tight rein on his tentacles at all times, or they would simply go off and act on whatever emotional impulse he had, whether that was trying to literally rip Emma in two (a good idea in theory but not in practice seeing as the last thing they needed was Rittenhouse knowing about Flynn’s abnormalities), trying to steal food from the fridge when Flynn was focused on work and forgot to eat, or shoving a tentacle down Wyatt’s pants.

But sometimes…

Flynn tended to get strung out. To overwork himself, to push himself too far. He had to keep such control over his body that it wore on him, and he’d wind himself tighter and tighter, until it all became too much, and he snapped.

That was what Lucy was there for.

She could tell when Flynn was getting twitchy, when his skin felt too small, when he needed to get out of his own head and stop having such control all the time.

Then she took control, and she shoved Flynn neatly over the edge and caught him on the other side.

And lately? Flynn was definitely gearing up to be in a mood.

That night after the mission, Flynn was practically ripping his clothes off, and Lucy could see his throat working as he struggled to hold in a snarl as his period clothing proved more difficult to remove than just a sweater and jeans.

Lucy left the room to intercept Wyatt, who was headed for the shower. She draped her arms over his shoulders, her fingers toying with the soft hair at the back of his neck. “Scrub quickly,” she ordered, brushing her lips against his. “Then get into the bedroom and get on the bed.”

Wyatt nodded. “Is…”

“Not for me, Flynn needs some extra care tonight.” Lucy cocked her head. “Might want to prep yourself in the shower.”

Wyatt shuddered at that, his pupils expanding, cheeks flushing, and he nodded briskly, slipping into the bathroom.

Lucy—Lucy went back to Flynn.

When she returned to their bedroom, Flynn was just in a wifebeater and sweats, sitting on the edge of the bed, his entire body a tense line. It would have been attractive, to see the play of muscles in his arms, the way the white tank top stretched across his broad chest, to remember just how goddamn big Flynn was—if she didn’t know the reason for it. The reason why he looked like a coiled tiger, like he might spring at any moment.

Lucy sighed. “Oh, my darling.” She walked up to him, running her hands through his hair, pulling his bowed head into her chest. “How long has it been since we took care of you? Hmm?”

“I can’t,” Flynn protested, his voice a pained rumble. “If I let go...”

Ahh. They’d never done this with his tentacles out. Of course.

“You won’t hurt us, I promise.” Lucy kept running her fingers through his hair, her nails gently scraping his scalp, making him shiver and lean further into her. “Does this mean all those other times you were holding back? Holding onto them?”

Flynn nodded. “It’s second nature at this point.”

“You don’t have to anymore darling. I promise.” Lucy kissed the top of his head. “It’ll be easier, with Wyatt. It’ll be both of us.”

Flynn looked up at her, his chin resting against her sternum. “ _Moja draga_. You have to promise me—you’ll stop, you’ll order me to stop, if it gets too much. You push yourself, you know you do, and I— _volim te, moja ljubav_ —I won’t be the reason something happens to you.” He reached up, gently brushing the pad of his thumb against her cheek. “ _Nisam to mogao podnijeti_.”

Lucy didn’t know the meaning, but she understood the sentiment. “I’m not going to break, and neither is Wyatt. I promise. I will stop you if you’re going too far. And you’re going to trust me and trust that I can give you what you need and that I won’t hurt myself.”

Flynn nodded, then kissed softly right between her breasts, turning his face just enough to kiss again, just over her heart. He could probably hear it beating rapidly in her chest.

The door opened, and Wyatt entered, just wearing a towel, beads of water sliding down his chest because he’d clearly been lazy about drying off all the way.

Lucy turned and crooked her finger, urging him closer. “On the bed, pet.” Then she looked at Flynn. “And you are getting undressed.”

Flynn raised his arms up above his head, cocking an eyebrow at her. Lucy yanked his top up and off and promptly shoved him back onto the bed, crawling into his lap. “You don’t get to be cocky, sweetheart.”

She kissed him, just the once, she told herself, but then she just had to do it again, and then once more, and then another time to be sure as she ran her hands over his chest, Flynn’s hands resting on her hips.

“No,” Lucy whispered. “Wyatt, his wrists.”

Wyatt had shoved the towel off and had climbed onto the bed, sitting behind Flynn’s head. He now grabbed Flynn’s hands, guiding them up above his head, holding them down.

“Usually I tie you down for this,” Lucy mused, “but that wouldn’t help you feel safe, would it? You need to be able to get to us if you think things have gone wrong. So this time… Wyatt, can you keep his hands down? No matter what?”

Wyatt nodded. “I can just put my weight on them.”

“And would that hurt, Garcia?”

Flynn shook his head. “No.”

Lucy tapped his thighs. “Do I need to tie your legs down?” She wanted to see him thrashing, see him losing control, and she planned to be sitting on his legs and keeping them down anyway with her weight by the time he was really desperate, but Flynn might see it differently.

“No,” Flynn replied, baldly, without hidden agenda.

“All right.” Lucy ran her thumb underneath the waistband of Flynn’s pants. “Bring them out, sweetheart. Go on.”

Flynn shuddered, going tense, and then his back arched as the eight tentacles emerged.

Lucy reached out for them, kissing and petting them as they draped themselves over her, eager as puppies. Oh, Flynn wanted this, really wanted this if the way his tentacles tugged at her, pressed into her, stroked her were any indication.

“Very good,” Lucy purred. She licked the tip of one tentacle and delighted in the way it shook in response. Already she could feel heat sliding down between her legs, making her wet, making her yearn and ache to be filled.

She lifted herself up, just enough to yank Flynn’s pants down and off, but then settled her weight back down onto him. She could see him growing hard, knew what he wanted, but carefully kept herself seated on his thighs, not touching his cock even if part of her wanted to just swallow him down and taste him until she choked on it.

Instead, she focused on the tentacles. “I think,” she mused aloud, “that we should have our fun with these, don’t you, Wyatt?” She slid a finger down the underside of one of the tentacles, then grabbed another and wound it around her arm until just the tip was threaded between her fingers. She guided it down between her legs, rubbing it against her clit.

Oh, _God_ , yes, that felt good. It had been an odd sensation to get used to, smoothness where she didn’t expect, slickness, ridges, suckers—but it felt so fucking good, she had no idea how Flynn could think for a moment she could do anything but embrace this part of him.

“I think we should fuck ourselves with these,” Lucy went on, slick arousal sliding down her thighs and heat building up in her limbs, like a battery charging. “It’ll feel good, won’t it, Garcia? But it’s not what you really need, is it?”

Flynn couldn’t come without something touching his cock, which, fair enough, Lucy couldn’t come without something touching her clit. Using his tentacles was like kissing him or playing with his nipples—it turned him on all the more but it couldn’t take him over the edge.

And he’d be begging her for that edge by the time she was finished with him.

Flynn looked her in the eye, challenging, as if to say _you know exactly what I need._

Lucy tugged sharply at the tentacle. “I suggest you behave,” she warned him. She seized his chin and tilted it up, forced him to keep looking her in the eye as she released the tentacle in her hand and grabbed his cock in a loose fist, giving him just enough touch to drive him crazy without giving him any proper pressure. She bent down, keeping his chin up, and kissed slowly down his neck, fitting her teeth around his pulse point and biting down just a little.

Flynn jerked, a small noise starting up in the back of his throat before he clamped down on it.

Lucy gave his cock a squeeze. “No,” she ordered, making her voice sharp. “You let those noises out. Let go, stop being in control. I’m in control here.” She gentled herself, kissing the spot where she’d bitten him, smoothing her hand across his hip. “You can trust me, sweetheart. I’m in control. I’ve got you.”

She understood now why Flynn would push back against her on nights like these. It wasn’t like Wyatt, who got bratty, who pushed so that Lucy and Flynn would push back and punish him, take it out in his skin, in his cries, leave him a shivering mess. Wyatt needed to feel used.

But Flynn needed to feel cherished.

And he needed to know—to _know_ —that Lucy really, truly had control. And it wasn’t just psychological, as she’d always thought. It was out of concern for her wellbeing. It was because he was scared that if she wasn’t completely, utterly in charge, ready at a moment’s notice, he might prove too much and hurt her.

Lucy’s heart unexpectedly swelled with emotion and she kissed Flynn properly, nice and deep, running her hands up and down his chest. Her darling, darling man.

“Now,” she whispered. “You’re going to be good for me, and you’ll let me run all that energy right out of you. I want to hear only two words from you, understood? _Please_ and _Lucy_.” She took his chin in her hand again, ran her thumb across his lips. “Yes?”

Flynn nodded.

“So when I say, I’m going to use you to fuck Wyatt, and I’m going to use you to fuck myself, you say…”

“Please, Lucy.”

“Very good.” Lucy kissed him one last time, swiftly, tugging at his bottom lip as she pulled away.

“You don’t have to do the work here,” she reminded him, running her hands up two of his tentacles, stroking them. “I’ve got you.” She looked at Wyatt. “Were you a good boy, doing what I asked in the shower?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent.” Lucy swung off Flynn and moved to be behind Wyatt, kissing the base of his spine.

Honestly, this was going to be similar to using one of her dildos on Wyatt, just with a slightly larger appendage to work with.

Lucy slid her hand down first, kissing all over Wyatt’s back. She felt Wyatt starting to lean down to kiss Flynn—and now, that just wouldn’t do.

She spanked him lightly. “No. He doesn’t get that yet.”

Wyatt whined. “Lucy—”

“No.” With Wyatt, the key was to overstimulate him, to touch him everywhere and in every way until he fell apart. But with Flynn, she had to be more patient. Withholding what he wanted until he was begging, giving it to him piece by piece—that was what would get him to where she needed him to be. “Not yet. You can kiss him when I say.”

Wyatt pouted over his shoulder at her but settled, pushing into her kisses instead, into her fingers as she slid them between his legs and pulled at his cock a few times, rolled his balls in her hand. “Now that’s a good pet,” she praised, moving her hand up and back, testing him, sliding a finger easily inside of him.

Flynn strained against Wyatt’s hands and dug his heels into the mattress, trying to see. Flynn loved being the one to get Wyatt all sloppy and open, loose and panting, but if he couldn’t be the one to do it then he wanted to be able to see it.

Lucy was denying him that, and she could see his frustration in the tense lines of his arms, his neck, his torso.

She added a second finger. “Mmm, he’s so ready. Got himself nice and open in the shower for us, just like I told him. Don’t you love when he’s obedient, Garcia? Such a pity you couldn’t join him in the shower… all that lovely water for you, sliding down his body, just waiting for you to lick it off, making him all slick and soft for you…”

Flynn growled, struggled, but Wyatt was strong and putting his full weight on Flynn’s arms, so he couldn’t get leverage. Of course if he’d really, truly wanted to, he could have used his tentacles to grab either or both of them—but he wouldn’t, because he didn’t want to. The tentacles weren’t their own entity who just did what they pleased. They were Flynn’s limbs.

And Flynn wanted to be dominated.

Lucy added a second finger inside of Wyatt, twisting them, just to test and make sure. She brushed against his prostate a few times, to tease him, and Wyatt whined, his hands flexing around Flynn’s wrists.

“There, there,” Lucy soothed, sliding her fingers out. “You’ll get what you need.”

She took two of Flynn’s tentacles, keeping a firm grasp with one hand and used the other to spread Wyatt open. “You know, I’m not sure you’re _quite_ open enough yet,” she mused.

“Lucy, for fuck’s sake,” Wyatt groaned.

She ignored him, setting her tongue to him instead.

Flynn growled, only able to watch Wyatt’s face and nothing else from his position, his tentacles tugging at Lucy all over, her thighs, her back, trying petulantly to get her attention.

Lucy just kept at it as Wyatt started to make loud, desperate moans, shoving back into her, hardly noticing as Lucy brought up the tentacles until she pulled away for breath.

She licked them, sucked them into her mouth, got them nice and extra slick, and then started to slide them into Wyatt.

She kept licking around them, getting both the tentacles and Wyatt in her mouth as she inched them carefully inside of him. Wyatt was digging his nails into Flynn’s wrists as Flynn shuddered, knowing what was happening, how he was being used, but still unable to truly see it—able to see the effect but not the cause.

“Can you keep him down with just one hand?” Lucy asked.

“Nngghh,” Wyatt responded.

Lucy spanked him again, making his entire body jolt. “Oh God oh fuck yes mmhmm yes yes I can oh my _God_ Lucy.”

“Good boy,” she said, preening. She grabbed a third tentacle. “Then feel free to fuck into this. Use him how you please. And watch your aim.”

She winked at Flynn, who was panting now. Then she swung back over, settling on his thighs, pinning him. “Somebody looks pent up,” she observed, as Wyatt started to shove himself back onto the tentacles, using them shamelessly like his own personal toys.

Flynn growled. “Please, Lucy…”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” She bent down, gripping the base of his cock, as if to put it into her mouth…

…and slid a tentacle into her mouth instead, sucking lewdly.

Flynn moaned. Two of his tentacles moved up to grab her breasts and Lucy smacked them away. “Absolutely not,” she said, pulling the tentacle out of her mouth with a slick _pop_. “You haven’t earned that.”

“Lucy, Lucy _please_ ,” Flynn begged. She could feel him actively straining against her weight on him, against Wyatt, who was flushed with his mouth open, making tiny little noises every time he fucked himself on the tentacles.

“No,” Lucy said lightly. “You don’t get a reward until you do the hard work first.”

She slid her fingers between her legs. She was so goddamn wet, she fumbled a little getting her fingers where she wanted them. But then oh, yes, just like that, grinding against the heel of her hand as she stretched herself with her fingers. Normally she was a bit, well, impatient was probably the best word, wanting to get to the main event and get that sweet stretch as quickly as possible. But right now—right now she had another goal in mind, so she took her time, scissoring her fingers, moaning into it, biting her lip, and arching her back.

Flynn was shaking a little underneath her, helpless as Wyatt wrapped the third tentacle Lucy had given him around his cock and started fucking himself with it, his eyes closed and mouth open, completely lost in the sensations.

“Garcia,” Lucy ordered softly. “Look at me.”

Flynn tore his gaze away from Wyatt to meet Lucy’s gaze. She held his eyes as she took the tentacle in her hand and slowly slid it down, down between her breasts, down her stomach, until she could rub it against her clit.

“You want your turn, don’t you?” she asked, rubbing the underside of the tentacle against her breast, gasping softly as the ridges rubbed against her nipple. “Mmm, you’re so good like this. You know you’re good like this, don’t you? We wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re perfect.”

She pulled her fingers out of herself, wiping them on the bedsheets before reaching up to cup Flynn’s cheek. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to touch you yet,” she added with a smirk.

Flynn’s gaze went from glazed and adoring to sharp and annoyed.

Lucy laughed. “Wyatt, look at me, sweetheart, how are you doing?”

Wyatt forced his eyes open and his gaze up to her, flushed all over. “’m, it’s, Lucy—‘s good—”

“I bet you wish that was your hand on him, don’t you, Garcia? Your mouth, your cock? That you could touch him or even see him? You can feel it, can’t you?” Lucy guided the tentacle down between her legs, fucking it into her inch by inch. Oh, fuck, that felt good, so good, twisting and writhing to get just the right angle with it—oh, _oh_ , yes, that angle, right right there oh God yes— “You can feel how good it is for us, but it’s not quite enough for you, is it? Not… not quite… mmm…”

She kept the one tentacle up against her body, rubbing her clit and breasts against it as she fucked the other one inside of her. Hmm, three left… whatever would she do with them?

Said tentacles were gripping the bedsheets tightly, twitching, rippling, as Flynn tried hard not to latch onto her and Wyatt both.

Well, maybe it was time she let them.

“Touch me,” she ordered.

“Lucy…” She could hear the thin thread of Flynn’s self-control, right at its breaking point.

Lucy lowered her gaze, hardening her voice. “Touch. Me. That’s not a suggestion.”

Flynn shuddered, the fight going out of his body, and then the other three tentacles surged up, latching onto her.

One teased at her entrance and she started to slide it into her as well, the other two just sliding over her body, hungry, like they just couldn’t get enough of her skin. The sight seemed to turn Wyatt on even more because she heard him give a helpless whimper and then a long-drawn out moan.

God, it was sensation everywhere, sucking on her like mouths, like tongues, lapping, curling, but also rough in places, just the way she liked…

The two tentacles were inside of her properly now—not enough to stretch her too far, but enough that it was a little more than Flynn or Wyatt’s cocks, enough to make her feel pushed to the brink, and she shamelessly fucked down on them. Her poor darling Flynn looked absolutely wrecked, clinging to her with the tentacles now more than anything, his gaze switching back and forth between her and Wyatt like he wished he could watch both of them simultaneously.

Wyatt finally couldn’t handle it, jerking and stiffening, staining Flynn’s chest as Lucy had hoped, marking him up and making Flynn growl and shake with want. Wyatt slumped, still holding onto Flynn’s wrists, the rest of him trembling. Flynn’s tentacles clung to Wyatt like an anchor, clung to Lucy, and the sight of it all was so damn good, she really couldn’t—

It was difficult to describe what, exactly, it felt like, getting fucked like this. It was slickness, softness, but firm at the same time. Almost but not quite like rubber, alive in a way that no rubber or any other material ever could be, warm and pulsing, rippling, smooth in some parts but ridged in others, and then the suckers, pressing up against her—it was a combination of sensations overwhelming simply because there were so many to focus on, and her nerves fell all in a tangle, short-circuiting, knowing only one truth:

It felt so fucking good she could scream.

Lucy rubbed herself viciously, mercilessly, milking her orgasm for all it was worth, shoving her hips down even further onto the tentacles as she came. Flynn moaned, feeling it intimately through all the tentacles he had on her, but unable to feel any release of his own.

Lucy laughed a little, slightly hysterical with pleasure, and gently guided the tentacles out of her. They clung to her thighs, all of Flynn was clinging to her and Wyatt, and she almost wanted to say _I told you so, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, you’re out of your mind and all you want to do is hold us._

But this wasn’t really the time.

Instead she slid up Flynn’s body, his cock dragging against her, feeling the slickness of her orgasm, rubbing against her clit. Flynn spasmed helplessly, his eyes black and desperate as he gazed at her.

“Do you want to come?” she asked him.

“Please, Lucy.”

“Oh, very good.” She kissed the bolt of his jaw. “I think you’ve been good.”

It took nothing more than a slight lifting of her hips to position herself, and then she was sinking down onto him.

Flynn yanked at Wyatt’s hands, desperate to touch her. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Lucy paused. “Did you want a hand free?”

Flynn looked at her, opening and closing his mouth. Lucy chuckled. “You can say yes.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Ah, very good. But…” Lucy thought for a moment. “Nope, not done with you yet.”

Flynn keened and shook all over. God, he was so close.

Lucy just had to give him that final push.

She fucked him mercilessly, letting him cling to her as tightly as he wanted with the tentacles, knowing they wouldn’t hurt her—and they were tight, but no more so than his hands when he was holding her with them. She was going to have tiny ring-shaped bruises all over tomorrow from this, but she didn’t care in the least.

In fact, she looked forward to it.

“Go on,” she panted. “I want—you to let go, you can always let go with us, go on—I want it, I like it, we crave it, go on, Garcia, darling go on, go on—”

Flynn make an utterly broken noise and thrust up into her as best he could while she and Wyatt were holding him down. His tentacles shuddered violently, his chest heaved, and he came with a choked cry.

There it was.

Lucy peppered his tentacles, his chest, his face with kisses, petting him all over and nodding at Wyatt.

Flynn didn’t even try to move his hands as Wyatt let go of his wrists, massaging them, joining Lucy in smothering him with affection.

Flynn was utterly, blissfully relaxed, his eyes mostly closed, his body glistening with sweat, his tentacles sliding lazily off of Lucy to flop onto the bed.

“There you are,” Lucy whispered. Flynn nuzzled into her as she stroked his jaw. “Now, darling, will you come to me instead of letting it get all pent up in your head?”

Flynn nodded. He licked his lips, then whispered, “Yes, I promise.”

“Good.” Lucy curled up with him, felt Wyatt doing it on Flynn’s other side. There’d be time for clean up later. “ _Volim te._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird random headcanon: Flynn and Lucy use a ton of pet names but only in the bedroom, outside of that they rarely use them.
> 
> Nisam to mogao podnijeti = I couldn't bear it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame lostinspiration. She did this.

Flynn had rather a lot of control over his tentacles.

But that wasn’t because of innate ability.

It was born through years of careful training and control. Asher hadn’t been a good father for much—Flynn’s grandmother, a tough woman who had never quite taken to Maria but had loved her grandson with all her callused and bruised heart, had been the one to teach Flynn about his odd family heritage.

His tentacles were linked to his every thought, she told him. His every emotion, his every whim. If he didn’t learn to control them, they’d be the death of him.

Rather grim words to tell a child but she’d had a good point. Flynn had to keep them carefully hidden, all day, every day.

Well, not all day.

Now that they were out of the bunker, in their own home, he could have them out there. He could use them just for little everyday things, like opening cupboards, holding the television remote out of Wyatt’s reach, and folding clothes.

It was such a relief, to once again have people he could be completely himself around. He loved it. It was like breathing properly after only being able to take shallow breaths for ages.

So he would use them around the house, including for things like right now, as he cooked dinner. But the thing was—his tentacles were linked to his thoughts, as his grandmother had told him.

And as his thoughts wandered…

Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table grading papers, wearing nothing but a pair of soft gray boy shorts and an oversized dark red sweater.

Wait a minute.

That was _his_ red turtleneck sweater.

Flynn struggled to focus as he sautéed the vegetables. Lucy’s hair was down and loose in waves, and it would be so easy to just run his fingers through it, tug slightly the way that she liked, exposing her throat so that he could kiss slowly down the curve of it…

She was wearing such loose clothes, clothes that could easily be pulled off, or have his hands sliding under… one quick tug of the boy shorts and he could lick right through her folds, get her slick and messy, have her panting right there—fuck her right there on the table, get his mouth on every curve, her perfect breasts, the slope of her shoulder, spread her thighs wide with his hands…

Behind him came a soft gasp.

Flynn knew that noise—it was the sound Lucy made when he rubbed at her clit _just_ so.

What the fuck? Was he imagining things now?

That was when he realized—his tentacles.

He whipped around, mouth dropping open in a mixture of arousal and panic, to find Lucy with her legs spread wide, biting fiercely down on her bottom lip, her eyelids fluttering, one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other held onto the tentacle that had made its way down her pants.

Jesus Christ he could feel it, rubbing through her folds, up against her clit, rough and making those little circles that drove Lucy absolutely nuts.

It wasn’t the only one touching her. A second was up under her shirt, and Flynn could feel—of course he could feel it, it was him—the tentacle massaging her breast. A third was in her hair, tugging just as he’d imagined.

Holy shit.

“Garcia,” she moaned, and oh fuck, it was always like dousing him in gasoline and lighting a match when she said his name like that. “Mmm, oh, fuck…” She arched up and Flynn felt the tentacle in her pants start to slide inside of her, and dear God she was so gorgeous, she felt so good, he wanted—

Lucy’s head fell forward and she gasped, shuddering, and he could feel her coming, the tentacle inside and against her becoming slick with her.

Fucking— _fuck_.

“Lucy—” He pulled the tentacles back. “Sorry, I’m so—”

Lucy made a distressed noise, grabbing onto one of the tentacles and stopping it from leaving. “Why are you apologizing?”

She looked him right in the eye and lowered her mouth to the tentacle, kissing it slowly as she guided it back down between her legs. “Did I tell you no?”

Flynn shook his head.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

He shook his head again.

“Then I think we’re okay.”

“But I wasn’t—” Flynn turned off the stove so that he wouldn’t start a goddamn fire. “Lucy, I did that—subconsciously.”

A wicked smile spread over Lucy’s face. “Oh?”

“I was—I was thinking about—about you, and then—they just did that. Of their own accord. I didn’t realize it was actually happening, I thought it was all just more of my fantasy.”

Lucy paused, dropping a soft, fond kiss onto the tentacle. “Do you not want to do this right now? Because we can wait until later. Or another day if you don’t want to do it today at all.”

“No,” he blurted out. “No, I meant—I just—I’m sorry. I wasn’t in control of them, and I’m sorry.”

“Garcia.” Lucy crooked her finger at him.

Dumbly, as if he had no choice, as if he was bound to her by string like a puppet, he walked over to her. All of his tentacles reached out for her, reflecting the yearning inside of him.

Lucy preened as they slid over her body, like a cat that had found the perfect sunbeam. “If I said no, or told you to stop, you would have stopped.”

Flynn nodded.

“And you wanted this, judging by your daydream, right?”

Flynn nodded again.

“Then I’m not seeing what the problem is.” Lucy took one of his tentacles and guided it up underneath her sweater, until it could latch onto her breast again. “My very hot and very considerate husband just fucked me. Apparently because he was daydreaming so strongly about it that his tentacles just _had_ to act on it.”

She tugged on another tentacle firmly until Flynn had to stumble forward even more and Lucy could reach up and take his face in her hands. “How many other people get proof their spouse is constantly into them, hmm?”

Worries about crossing boundaries aside, Flynn could feel heat still simmering inside of him, could feel himself getting hard as Lucy dragged his tentacles over her body, letting him feel her. She stood up and wiggled her hips, encouraging a tentacle until it tugged her boy shorts down and she could step out of them.

“Go on then,” she whispered. “Fuck me.”

Flynn wasn’t even sure where the wounded noise he made even came from, but he was hauling her up in an instant, setting her on the kitchen table as Lucy feverishly yanked at his pants, shoving them down and grabbing at every piece of him she could reach to draw him towards her.

As much as he did love daydreaming about her, and as much as he did love driving her crazy with his tentacles—he liked this best, kissing her until his mouth was swollen, his hands holding her up, spanning her back, her legs and arms around him, the sweet smell of her hair and the sharp scent of her arousal mingling and filling his nose.

“Don’t you dare go slow,” Lucy hissed, yanking at his shirt until she could get her hands underneath, around to his back, pressing right at the base of his tentacles on either side of his spine where dammit she knew he was fucking sensitive. “Don’t you fucking dare, I want it, want it—”

Flynn used his tentacles to brace himself on the table—convenient, which meant he could keep his hands all over Lucy—and gave her exactly what she asked for.

Lucy massaged the base, working her way up until she slid her hands out from under his shirt and grabbed his hair, tugging his face up to hers to kiss him again, savage, demanding. Flynn knew she’d come already but like hell was he not making sure that she thoroughly enjoyed this time as well, sliding a tentacle down between them, teasing himself with it briefly before placing a sucker over her clit and applying suction.

That was always a guaranteed way to get the exact following reaction: Lucy crying out and going stiff, jerking her hips, yanking at his hair until his scalp burned a little.

Lucy tore her mouth from his, panting, and Flynn latched onto her neck as he buried himself into her, all of him going limp.

After a few moments he was able to raise his head enough to brush his nose against Lucy’s. “You still good?” he whispered.

“Mmm, perfect.” She kissed his temple.

“Um?”

Flynn turned to look over his shoulder.

Wyatt was standing there, clearly having just wanted in the front door, looking extremely confused. “I take it dinner’s delayed?”

Lucy collapsed into laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

Flynn wasn’t, overall, a huge fan of bars, but this one was fun. It was right halfway between their place and Rufus and Jiya’s apartment, had a karaoke machine, a jukebox, pool tables, and was just busy enough that people left them alone but not so busy that Flynn started to get that itch down his spine.

Well, usually this one was fun.

It was strangely crowded tonight, and Flynn was just glad they’d found their usual corner booth and had snagged it before someone else could. Now he was slumped in the booth, Lucy under his arm and nursing a beer as Wyatt talked with Rufus on the opposite end, his finger in his free ear so that he could hear him.

“Yeah, no, no worries, you just get here when you can, man, it’s all good,” Wyatt was saying.

Lucy kissed Flynn’s neck. “You seem tense.”

Flynn looked pointedly at all the people around them.

“Mmm… will it is rather dark in here,” Lucy noted. “Hard for anyone to see what’s going on under the table here.”

Flynn frowned, looking down at her. “What are you talking about?”

Lucy kissed his neck again. “Look at our poor puppy. He’s had a long day at work. So did you.”

“…Lucy…”

“I bet you can’t get him to come with just your tentacles under the table.”

Flynn glanced around. “If someone sees—”

“Everyone’s drunk as fuck and we’re regulars. We’re fine.”

“Wyatt can’t keep quiet.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Lucy nuzzled him, one of her hands moving under the table to massage his thigh. “Mmm, go on, Garcia. It’ll be fun.”

Wyatt got off the phone with a heavy sigh. “Yeah, they got a flat, they’re fixing it up now but they’ll be late.”

“Did you say they didn’t have to come?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah, but they definitely still wanted to, Rufus said he’s going to beat Flynn at pool or he’ll die trying.”

Flynn chuckled.

“Relax,” Lucy told Wyatt, nudging him with her foot.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

Flynn took in Wyatt’s tense jaw, stiff shoulders, the way he was holding himself. He could feel his tentacles shifting under his skin, his control hanging by a thread. He wanted…

He nudged Lucy with his nose against her temple. “All right, you’re on,” he murmured.

“Wyatt,” he then said, more loudly, as he arched his back subtly and flexed the two lowers slits on his spine. “Would you like me to help you relax?”

The two lowest tentacles emerged from his back, sliding out from underneath his shirt and down, down under the table, carefully avoiding the horribly dirty floor, and wrapped around Wyatt’s ankles.

Wyatt jerked in surprise, nearly spilling his beer. “I—”

Flynn slid his tentacles up Wyatt’s legs, over his jeans, petting slowly. Wyatt’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes going wide and dark, a flush creeping up his neck. “Garcia…”

“Yes or no, Wyatt,” Flynn told him.

Wyatt spread his legs wider as one of the tentacles made it between his thighs, rubbing right between them where Flynn could start to feel a swelling bulge. Wyatt made a choking noise. “Yes,” he burst out, the tail end of the word turning into a whine.

“You’re so very easy,” Lucy noted.

Wyatt struggled to stay still, taking a quick pull from his bottle, assumedly to steady himself. Flynn smirked. “Better not get too loud, there, can’t have everyone realizing what we’re up to. Getting arrested for public indecency would be a rather frustrating end to the night, wouldn’t you say?”

He kept rubbing Wyatt through his jeans as Wyatt gripped his beer bottle so tightly Flynn was honestly scared he’d crack it.

“Spread your legs,” Lucy ordered softly.

Wyatt’s jaw clenched as he swallowed what seemed to be a low whine and then he spread his legs, sinking down further into the booth.

Flynn moved his tentacle up and then down underneath Wyatt’s jeans. Wyatt let go of the bottle, clearly realizing, as Flynn had, that shattered glass wasn’t fun for anyone, and gripped the edge of the table instead. Flynn was almost, but not quite, dexterous enough with his tentacles to undo a pair of jeans, so he simply pushed and flexed until he popped the snap and then got the zipper moved down.

If this pushing and flexing also resulted in his tentacle around Wyatt’s cock, squeezing, and Wyatt biting his lip so hard Flynn could see it starting to bleed, well, that was just an added benefit.

Now that the jeans were open, though, Flynn could be extra evil.

Evil according to Wyatt, anyway.

He released two more tentacles and had them slide across to seize Wyatt’s thighs and keep them open as the second tentacle released him and moved up between his legs, wiggling into his jeans and then pushing down, down, pressing against—

Wyatt let out a sound that was a garbled mix of a groan and a squeak, and quickly took a too-large gulp of beer to try and cover it up, only to end up coughing.

“Please don’t die,” Flynn said mildly.

Lucy laughed.

Wyatt thumped his chest with a fist, bent over, and managed to give them both the middle finger as Flynn continued to work his tentacle around Wyatt’s entrance. “Fuck you,” he spat out, his eyes watering.

“No, no, _I’m_ fucking _you_ ,” Flynn replied, and then he started pushing the tentacle inside, the other one stroking and squeezing Wyatt’s cock rhythmically.

Wyatt jerked back, his head hitting the booth and making him wince, his nails scrabbling for purchase on the table and finally getting a grip and digging in. “Oh holy—shit fucking—Garcia—”

Flynn corkscrewed the tentacle inside Wyatt, twisting it, unable to get the angle he really wanted like this but certainly able to tease. When he glanced to the side, he saw that Lucy had a hand down her own pants and was leisurely touching herself, the curve and flex of her fingers causing the fabric to move and shift, and Flynn nearly dropped everything to shove his hand down there and help her.

Wyatt slumped down more in his seat and Flynn focused back in on him, using the very tip of his tentacle to toy with the slit at Wyatt’s head, before bringing it down to press against his perineum, stroking him all the while. Wyatt jolted and Flynn couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Wyatt’s eyes go heavy-lidded and his mouth fall open.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Flynn encouraged, the tentacle inside of Wyatt curling up high enough to find his prostate and press against it. Damn it, if this was in a bed or even against a wall he could stroke in and out of Wyatt, hot and slick in that way that got Wyatt screaming for him, but not only was that impossible at the moment, Wyatt making that much noise would only cause problems.

“Oh, fuck,” Wyatt slurred, his grip going slack on the edge of the table. “Fu—fuck, Garcia… ‘m… fuck…”

Wyatt was about to start getting loud, Flynn could tell, especially since Flynn was going to start actually working his prostate and that never failed to get out a lot of deliciously loud moans. He glanced at Lucy, who nodded and slid over, tilting Wyatt’s face up to hers—taller for once, since Wyatt had slumped down in his seat—and kissing him.

Flynn shifted himself in his pants, determined to finish Wyatt off but just as determined that the night wasn’t over once he did. Watching Lucy thoroughly and deeply kiss Wyatt would’ve been enough to get him aching, even if he hadn’t already been turned on by taking Wyatt apart.

He sped up his strokes, pressing relentlessly up against Wyatt’s prostate and toying with the head of his cock, his two other tentacles keeping Wyatt spread wide, and Wyatt pushed up violently into Lucy’s mouth and against the tentacles, coming in his pants, before he collapsed back against the booth.

Flynn pressed the heel of his hand against his cock. God yes, that had been so worth the risk to watch Wyatt do that.

“Oh Jesus,” Wyatt said weakly. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Mmm, good boy,” Lucy said, patting his cheek. “Now, you stay right here.”

Wyatt managed to shake a bit of the dazed look from his eyes. “What?”

Lucy all but shoved Flynn out of the booth. Flynn stumbled to his feet, standing awkwardly, clasping his hands in front of him to try and hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Garcia and I are going to fuck in the restroom,” Lucy informed him. “Get your breath back and order some water.”

She grabbed Flynn by the hand and dragged him along, waving cheerily at Wyatt.

And Flynn, well.

Far be it from him to stop her.

(Flynn had never been one for restroom trysts, or bar trysts, or any kind of tryst in general, but then, this wasn’t some anonymous or random person that he picked up. This wasn’t a hook up. This was his wife, and if she wanted him to fuck her hard and fast in short, sharp, brutal thrusts against the wall in a bar bathroom while his tentacles braced to hold them up right, well, then he was just going to go along with it and thoroughly enjoy each breathless little whimper she let out.)

By the time Rufus and Jiya arrived, everyone at the booth was cleaned up, relaxed, and looking perfectly put together. Totally PG.

Well, Wyatt still looked a bit boneless but, other than that.

Nobody could ever suspect a thi—

“Oh my God,” Rufus said. “You three fucked. You totally fucked while you were waiting for us.”

…oh well.


	9. Chapter 9

Flynn didn’t really… he still struggled to talk, sometimes, about his unusual anatomy.

For years, before and after his first disastrous attempt at showing someone outside of the family his tentacles, he wasn’t intimate with anyone. How could he be, when a little slip would release his tentacles and send his partner running away screaming?

Once Lorena knew, it was easier. He didn’t use the tentacles on her during sex, respecting her boundaries, but he could have them out, and could use them to pet her afterwards, to hold her and feel connected to her.

Then Lorena was… gone.

After Lorena he didn’t really care to do… anything with himself. He didn’t have the urge. When he finally did, though—when thoughts of Lucy started to slip in when he was alone in bed at night—

All that time, the only person he could be intimate with was himself, and the tentacles could naturally come out, and if they naturally started to explore just as his hands did, if he started to instinctively use them just as he did his hands as he touched himself, made himself feel good, then what of it? He never expected that anyone else would want that or enjoy it, but if he was alone, then who was there to judge him?

Even now, now that he was with Lucy and Wyatt, now that he had two people who loved him, who embraced every part of him, the only time he really used the tentacles on himself—unless Lucy ordered him to—was when he was alone.

Like now, in the shower, the water running down him, making him feel at peace as the way only water could, his tentacles drinking it all in. Wyatt was out and Lucy was on a run. He had time to himself.

Flynn tipped his head back, enjoying the spray, letting the water slide down his neck and chest and following it with his hand. Down his chest, down the planes of his stomach, between his legs, fingers scratching through the thatch of hair, slowly, loosely gripping his cock.

He stroked himself a few times, keeping his grip loose, stroking his thumb over the head, working the foreskin, just teasing and getting himself good and hard. He wasn’t really picturing anything specific, just flashes here and there of things like Lucy in one of her lacy bras that pushed her breasts up, or Wyatt with his wrists tied down to the bed. Brief images, there and gone in an instant.

Once he was good and hard he let go with his hand, bracing himself on the tile, and slithered a tentacle up to wrap around his cock instead, while a second one dipped into the handily open bottle of lube and then moved up between his legs.

Flynn’s breathing grew choppy. His fingers had never been enough, he’d wanted more, wanted another man, or a strap on, something, and he’d been a teenager, too damn scared of his father finding out to order a sex toy. But he’d had these, and he’d made good use of them.

Not that he didn’t love having Wyatt fuck him, or Lucy with some of their favorite toys, it just wasn’t the same as this. He liked it all equally.

The tentacle began to enter him, sliding in and out, getting a little deeper each time. His mouth fell open and a small groan worked its way out. Yes, _yes_ , there—

A third, a fourth tentacle, moved around his ankles, squeezing, spreading his own legs apart. A fifth went up around his wrists, pinning them together and then against the wall. The sixth he directed up to his chest, using a sucker on his nipples. Lucy had wondered how he’d known to do that little trick with her, and it had been simple—he’d done it on himself first, for years, writhing under his own touch.

It was a unique feeling, being both penetrated and penetrating, bound and binding, the one who was teasing and being teased. He was not only reacting to it all but he could feel himself reacting, and it created a feedback loop like nothing else.

He had two tentacles left. One of them he moved up between his legs and began to slowly, slowly, work it inside of him alongside the other one.

God, yes, _fuck_ yes. There was a bit of a burn but it was sweet, honey with cayenne, and another desperate noise worked its way out of his open mouth. His head was hanging down between his arms, water dripping down from his hair, and he sped up on thrusting into himself while he squeezed the base of his cock to keep himself from coming—oh—oh _fuck_ —

Last tentacle, last one, he wanted—Flynn moved it up and wrapped it around his own throat.

This he’d done a lot of research on before he’d tried it. He wrapped the tentacle around his neck just under his chin, and then pressed down, so that he wasn’t actually cutting off his airway—but gave the impression of it. He could still breathe the entire time, but there was that good, delicious pressure, that restriction that made the rush of noise and thought in his head finally start to quiet.

Ohhh yes.

After so many years he knew how to get a good rhythm going, his tentacles moving instinctively just as his hands did, everything knowing what to do and what was preferred. He fucked himself roughly, and when he looked down he could see the flush that had spread over his chest, the dark red tentacle around his cock, the tentacles squeezing his ankles and keeping him spread—and the two that were moving in and out of him, between his legs.

Fuck. God it felt so good. He pinched his nipples, rubbed against his prostate, just—just the right angle to—squeezed his throat, yes—

He made a choked-off groan as he came, his tentacles shuddering with it and his legs buckling just a little. The tentacle around his wrists tightened, and he slid to the floor, landing carefully on his knees, the water still pounding down on him from above.

Fuck.

“Well, that sure is something to come home to.”

Flynn’s head jerked up.

Lucy was standing in the doorway, her hand on the door handle, her skin glistening with sweat and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, still wearing her skintight workout gear.

Flynn slowly released the tentacles, knowing that they had left sucker marks on his skin. “I didn’t think you’d be home yet,” he rasped, too out of it to be anything but honest.

Lucy walked over and turned off the water, kneeling down. “Darling… you know you can be any way you want with us. If you want us to… let you use those on yourself, or use them on you, for you, or… whatever you want. It’s all right. We’re happy to do that.”

Flynn flashed her a small, tentative smile. “I know, _moja draga_. I just… it’s a work in progress. Accepting myself and accepting that you accept me.”

Lucy reached out, sliding her hand up his arm, and then stroking her fingers along the hair at the base of his head. “If you just want alone time that’s fine too.”

“I know.” His tentacles reached out for her, sliding over her, gently tugging at her.

Lucy laughed. “You want me to join you?”

“Mmm. I’ll wash your hair.”

“Oh, with an offer like that…”

Lucy let him drag her clothes off and joined him in the shower, where he kissed her and gently washed her hair and kissed her and held her and ran his hands over her curves and let her mouth the sucker marks on his body and kissed her, kissed her, kissed her some more, until the water ran cold.

He still struggled to talk about his tentacles, sometimes. But with Lucy and Wyatt, he didn’t always have to.


	10. Chapter 10

Wyatt didn’t usually fuck Flynn.

Not that Flynn disliked it. Far from it. And Wyatt had seen Lucy peg Flynn with great enthusiasm on several occasions. It was just that Wyatt was so very submissive, and Flynn loved teasing him, and that combined to make fucking Wyatt a great and regular option.

But that meant that when he did fuck Flynn, it felt—sort of special.

All right, he was a sap, sue him.

They didn’t save it for special occasions or whatever, it wasn’t his annual Christmas present or some shit. But yeah. It felt more overwhelming, made him feel like circuits were overloading inside of him.

So when he, Lucy and Flynn fell into bed that night, laughing and kissing and a tangle of limbs—including tentacles—he expected one of them to get their hands between his legs, sliding fingers into him, searching, curling, stroking.

Instead, Flynn guided Wyatt’s hand between Flynn’s legs.

Wyatt’s throat caught. “You sure, babe?”

Flynn chuckled, leaned in, kissed him. His tentacles were sliding all over Wyatt and Lucy, curling around their limbs, petting, affectionate. “Yes, now why don’t you get to fucking me, hmm?”

Wyatt took the lube that Lucy helpfully handed over and slicked up his fingers, slipping them up and massaging Flynn’s entrance, as Lucy pulled at his cock, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his tentacles.

Flynn made encouraging noises, whispering instructions now and again. Wyatt had never done anything before being with Flynn and Lucy—nothing in the way of experimenting with his body or letting himself acknowledge his attraction to men as well as women. They’d helped to teach him everything. He often felt in danger of being behind, being slow, being inadequate. But they never let him feel that way. Flynn gently took charge, and Lucy would order them around with no problem.

It made Wyatt feel safe—knowing that he didn’t have to take charge and mess it up. He could trust them to tell him what to do, he could know that he was doing a good job. Pleasing them.

He scissored his fingers inside of Flynn the way that Flynn liked, stretching him, curling them to stroke with the pads of his fingers and get those pleased little rumbles in Flynn’s chest.

“What do you think, darling?” Lucy asked Flynn, kissing his neck, then Wyatt’s bicep. “Fucking him while he fucks you?”

That was the fun thing about the tentacles—they made it possible to do things that would just be really difficult otherwise. Lucy could theoretically use a dildo on Wyatt while he fucked Flynn, but that would put Lucy in an awkward position. But if Flynn just slid a tentacle down, no problem.

Lucy tilted her head at Wyatt. “Would you like that?”

Wyatt’s mouth went dry and he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“You want to behave today?”

He nodded.

Lucy took Wyatt’s free hand and moved it up above his head, interlocking their fingers. “Garcia?”

Flynn grunted. “I’m good.”

Wyatt withdrew his fingers and Lucy took his other hand, putting them both over his head.

A tentacle immediately slid up to wrap around Wyatt’s wrists, tightening as Wyatt felt his chest expanding, a proper exhale leaking out of him as his limbs relaxed. He felt so helpless like this but so, so right—and the fact that it wasn’t just a rope but Flynn, physically his lover, his husband—that made it so much better.

He hoped he’d have marks by the end of this.

Flynn stroked Wyatt’s cock a few times, giving him a lazy, sassy smile as he teased Wyatt, two of his tentacles moving with purpose down and between Wyatt’s legs.

Wyatt always felt this tiny thrill of fear, even after all of this time—this feeling of something completely alien and surprising touching him like that. It gave him this fun, _look at how naughty we’re being_ sort of feeling, like when he and Jess would get it on in the car by the side of the road knowing both their parents would kill them if they found out what they were up to—but in the fun way, not the _my dad will kill me if he knows I like men_ way.

He didn’t know if it was the human instinct to rebel or to do what was considered forbidden or wrong—he just knew, he liked it.

Flynn was damn coordinated with his body, and sank down bit by bit onto Wyatt’s cock at the same time that he gently worked the tip of his tentacle inside of Wyatt, taking his sweet time with both of them.

Wyatt struggled to keep his breathing even, each sensation overwhelming on its own but deadly as a combination. Lucy was watching it all with dark eyes, and he could see her thighs starting to get slick as she was turned on by it.

Flynn must have noticed as well, because while his hands were still occupied with using Wyatt’s hips for leverage to twist his way down onto Wyatt’s cock, two more of his tentacles moved over Lucy’s curves, nudging up at her chin playfully, asking permission.

Lucy laughed, petting them. “Mmm, go right ahead.” Between her eyes narrowed into pleased slits, her smirk, and her purring voice, she looked like a cat offered cream.

Flynn’s tentacles immediately, eagerly roamed all over her, paying special attention to her breasts (while Flynn continued to vehemently deny he had a favorite part of Lucy’s body). Lucy opened her legs and let herself be, frankly, pampered, petted and stroked in all the ways she liked as she practically lounged on top of Wyatt to get a front row seat to him falling apart.

Wyatt’s throat clicked as he tried to swallow, Flynn relentless on both the tentacles inside of him and his determination to fuck Wyatt as slowly as possible. Fucking hell. By the time Flynn’s hips were flush with Wyatt’s, Flynn’s tentacle was having a merry time curling and twisting inside of Wyatt, making Wyatt’s heels dig uselessly into the mattress and his chest heave. Flynn did that, he just—did that, using a tentacle to explore and touch everywhere until Wyatt was whimpering, feeling like he was a livewire, hooked up directly to a battery.

“C’mon, Garcia,” he said, knowing it was giving in to beg so early, but also not caring in the moment.

Lucy squirmed against Wyatt’s side, her hand sliding over his chest, her mouth dropping light kisses onto his neck and shoulder. “Mmm Garcia… go on…” She bit down on the juncture between Wyatt’s neck and shoulder, sucking. “Greedy boy.” This last was clearly directed at Wyatt.

Flynn squeezed Wyatt’s wrists with the tentacle and then started to move in deep, undulating strokes, having Wyatt slide almost all the way out and then sinking back down onto him completely again. Wyatt was transfixed by the sight of it, watching himself going in and out, the tentacles just behind as they began to thrust in short, teasing little movements, the opposite of Flynn on his cock, a counterpoint—

A tentacle rubbed against his prostate and Wyatt choked. Flynn laughed, a little breathless, and twisted his hips on the next downstroke. “You want another one?”

Wyatt nodded, croaking a bit, his throat dry. He felt so warm all over, sweat starting to slide down his forehead and chest, and then Flynn started to work another tentacle into him and holy _fuck_ he was burning, warm to hot, melting and sucking in fire with each breath.

Lucy was clawing at him a bit now, her head rolling onto his shoulder as she began to thrust into the tentacle that was fucking her. It was messy, slick, making those dirty-wrong-intoxicating noises as Flynn absolutely toyed with her, and Wyatt found his gaze fixed on the tentacle fucking her even as his vision blurred from the ones fucking him.

“Right there,” Lucy ordered breathlessly. She fit her teeth around the curve of Wyatt’s shoulder and let out a high-pitched sort of squeal. “Oh, _oh_ —don’t you dare stop Garcia don’t you _dare_ —”

Wyatt squirmed, unable to escape the hold or Flynn’s weight on him, wanting to see more, wanting to touch Lucy, wanting to yank and claw at Flynn and tell him to fucking get on with it.

“Thought you were supposed to be fucking me, too?” Wyatt snapped, feeling a little petulant.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. Then he clenched around Wyatt’s cock as the two tentacles pulled out and slammed back into Wyatt at the same moment, merciless, hitting his prostate with brutal accuracy.

Wyatt let out a—well it was a scream, basically—as his brain went white and he seized up, his cock spurting a bit inside of Flynn. Holy mother of fucking tap-dancing sweet merciful what the everloving—

Flynn did it again Wyatt cried out, back arching, legs desperately kicking for some kind of purchase. He couldn’t even fucking see anymore for a second, everything blinding.

Lucy was practically grinding against his side, climbing onto him so that her leg was draped over him, giving herself—and Flynn—better access to fuck her, and seizing Wyatt’s face in her hands. “You like that?” she asked, even as her hips thrust incessantly and Flynn kept touching her all over with the tentacles.

Flynn let go of Wyatt with one hand to steady Lucy by placing it at the small of her back. The large size of his hand against Lucy’s frame, his slightly tanner skin against her cream, the way their very bones seemed to fit together—it was almost poetic, at least in Wyatt’s endorphin-addled brain.

“You want him to keep doing that to you? Fucking you hard and rough like that?” She got her mouth right by his ear. “Milking you dry like that because you’re a little slut?”

Wyatt whined helplessly at that. It made Flynn a little uncomfortable to hear the things Wyatt and Lucy wanted to be called and would therefore call one another. Words that were degrading, words that Wyatt would have punched anyone for calling him or Lucy—but said in this context, teasing and whispered to one another like a dirty secret, it just thrilled him, turned him on all the more.

“Like you’re any better,” he shot back, looking pointedly at where Lucy was shamelessly letting Flynn fuck her until her legs were shaking. He suspected she’d already come once at this point and Flynn was just still going because he hadn’t been ordered to stop and Lucy was deliciously greedy.

Lucy kissed him ferociously. “Just for that,” she told him, “you can come for us a couple more times.”

Oh Jesus.

Lucy braced herself on Wyatt’s chest in order to look back at Flynn. “Stop fucking him with the tentacles.”

Flynn stopped at once, but still moved up and down on Wyatt’s cock.

“Keep him inside you when he’s finished,” Lucy ordered. “Oh,” she then added, like an afterthought, like she hadn’t had it in her head all along, “and no touching yourself.”

Flynn couldn’t come without something—a hand, a mouth, a tentacle—on his cock. He looked at Lucy like a man betrayed, and she just winked at him. “Well how else can I expect you to fuck me?” she asked.

Flynn let out a growl that Wyatt was sure was involuntary, and began to fuck Wyatt in earnest, the tentacles staying still inside of Wyatt as a horrible tease, until Wyatt was thrashing and nearly knocked Lucy off of him. Flynn looked—he felt—God he was flushed and nothing but six feet of solid fucking muscle moving over Wyatt, his stomach rippling as he worked himself up and down, his dark hair growing damp and falling into his face, and Wyatt would’ve given anything in that moment to touch him.

Lucy was still fucking herself on the tentacle, starting to make tiny gasps—and then she whined and bit down on Wyatt’s chest, coming, and she was finding his nipple and scraping her teeth over it and he was gone.

Flynn shoved himself back down, clenching, keeping Wyatt inside of him, and his tentacles started to move inside Wyatt again, relentlessly rubbing against his prostate. Oh holy—oh fuck—

Lucy released her mouth from Wyatt’s chest and flicked her tongue over the nipple she’d just bitten, making Wyatt whine. “Ohhh look at you. You’re so needy.” She looked at Flynn, who was wetting his lips and looked like he might start begging at any second. “Both of you,” Lucy purred, her voice dark and soft like velvet.

Wyatt could feel himself getting hard again inside of Flynn. Fuck, it hurt a little, around the edges, like the blurry ring around a light, but it made the pleasure all the sharper. Flynn was rubbing against his prostate, using a sucker on it, and Lucy was biting and sucking at his chest, leaving little red marks all over, and he was flushing hot and cold with need and want and—and—

He came a second time with a harsh whine, giving several helpless, aborted thrusts.

Lucy pushed herself up and off Wyatt, turning onto her back, tugging at Flynn. “C’mere handsome.”

Flynn slid off Wyatt and followed, letting Lucy kiss him deeply, passionately, helping her spread her legs and welcome him into her. Wyatt lay there panting, watching, covered in his own sweat and come and lube and whatever it was that Flynn’s tentacles had that made them naturally slick, feeling exhausted and dirty and sated.

And then Lucy murmured something into Flynn’s ear, and a tentacle slid up Wyatt’s leg to wrap around his cock.

“Oh my God,” he moaned weakly. “Lucy—Luce—Lucy c’mon…”

“You can do just one more, can’t you?” Lucy asked, her hand at Flynn’s ass to keep him thrusting into her. “Hmm?”

Wyatt whined, curling into himself as the tentacle started to stroke him. Oh, God, it was—it was too much he’d already—but it was so hot to watch Lucy and Flynn and he couldn’t help the way his body naturally responded to stimulus and Flynn knew exactly how to touch him, dammit—

He panted helplessly into the pillow, watching the two of them through blurred vision, watching Lucy dig her nails, her heel, into Flynn and watching Flynn kiss her everywhere he could reach, watching him sliding in and out of her, watching Lucy’s eyes flutter closed in bliss…

The tentacle on his cock was relentless and Wyatt weakly dug his fingers into the bedsheets, his hands spasming. Oh fuck, oh shit, fuck, goddamn, it was too—

His orgasm was dragged out of him, claws down his spine, fire and ice, and he went completely limp against the mattress.

Lucy’s dark eyes were on him the whole time, watching him, and although Flynn had his eyes on her Wyatt knew Flynn was listening to him, turned on by it too. It was only a few moments later that Lucy came again, and at last tugged on Flynn’s hair and told him, _you can come darling_ , and Flynn finally, finally broke and thrust into her roughly and had to fall to the side before he crushed her.

They all lay there, ruined, messy, their harsh breathing the only sound.

Wyatt didn’t want to move for a month.

“Shower?” Lucy suggested softly, after some time had passed.

…oh all right, maybe he’d move. Just to get to the shower, and join them under the spray.

The tentacle that had been around Wyatt’s wrists slid down and softly pet his cheek.

Wyatt turned his face towards it and kissed it.


End file.
